Stories Born of Procrastination
by 3cheersforidiots
Summary: This is the gathering place for all miscellaneous one-shots written by me. Written for challenges and such, features a variety of pairings, eras and scenarios. Rating is for some and future chapters. Current: Ch 74 - Wishful Thinking - Scorpius/Lily Soulmates AU (what's up with this trope?)
1. 1: First Date

**A/N: Made for the Ultimate Battle Challenge II.**

 **Prompt: First date between two characters.**

 **Slightly AU, songfic, inspired by the song First Date by blink-182.**

 **(The first 8 chapter is reuploaded)**

 **Enjoi!**

If there was something about his father's love for muggle gadgets that had its use for Fred Weasley, it was that he didn't need a driver's license to get a car. Even more so, he didn't need a driver's license to know how to drive a car. Sometimes the escapade of your brother's best friend came in handy later on.

And he was awfully glad for that, because finally, when Hermione Granger finally said yes to a date after years of persuading. And he knew that doing things the muggle way would definitely earn her liking.

 _\- line break 'cause it doesn't work for some reason -_

As boring as it sounds, they chose to walk beside the Tames after they drove around London, passing by all the popular sights.

He thought the simplicity gave the occasion beauty. And he knew she wouldn't want to make things complicated.

He asked her if he could hold her hand, and she just smiled at him, which he took as a yes.

They talked about a lot of things. Facts they already knew about each other, their everyday life, and about some books she's been reading. At one point, they even talked about how lame it is when at some point the two main characters start dancing for no reason. Even if it's romantic and all.

 _\- line break -_

If anyone have met him, they would think he's outgoing, humorous, and that he never cared about what other people thought. That is true, except just this night it wasn't, though he obviously tried to conceal his nerves, while his stomach was constatly backflipping, and he felt those butterflies that everyone talks about. This feeling was one of the main reasons why he didn't take her to a restaurant instead.

One should think that after long years of proffessional pranking, one should be able to tell lies if the situation called for it, but this time, he just gave up, let out an awkward laugh and told her just how nervous he is. She just laughed it off, saying it was totally normal.

 _\- line break -_

He told her he was glad that she accepted, and that he never thought she would.

She just smiled and told him she was actually glad she accepted.

He was pretty sure nothing could surpass her delightful smile.

 _\- line break -_

He thought back to the good ol' times when she was still in love with his brother, and the jealousy he felt every time the family came together for dinner, or when she spent the holidays in the Burrow.

He didn't tell her that, but she knew what he felt. She knew him well enough. But she didn't mention it, because she knew that she was too caught up in the war back then to notice him. And she didn't tell him because she didn't want to hurt him, nor was she a liar.

 _\- line break -_

He didn't know if he would kiss her at the end of the night. He wanted to, but there was no need to rush anymore, and what if she didn't want him to anyway?

He felt as if nothing was for certain once again. There were too many questions of "What if...?" in his head, question he couldn't answer just yet.

So he thought it was best to ignore them, and go with the flow.

And so he did.

 _\- line break -_

They had a great time. As always, nothing was for certain, but when he dropped her off just outside her apartment, they knew there would be a next time.

And so there was.

 **A/N: I honestly don't know how this turned out (I mainly concentrated on the lyrics, not the feels of the song), but if you liked it, or if you didn't, I would appreciate and cherish a review!**


	2. 2: All Was Well

**Summary: Ron is scared, Hermione is stressed. They have one thing in common, they're both marrying each other in a few minutes. And Harry's there to calm them down.**

 **A/N: Written for the Ultimate Battle Challenge II - Write a fluffy story with your NoTP, at least 1200 words.**

 **Clichés, clichés everywhere. If the story has a slightly sarcastic tone at points, that's because I just can't grasp this ship. Like, I'm sorry, I just can't. I also realized that I'm really bad at writing fluff. Whatever.**

 **Also, I apologize for any SPaG mistakes, and any characterization mistakes I might have made. I didn't really have time to revise that stuff.**

 **Enjoi!**

"Mate, I'm scared." said Ron Weasley, who was currently sitting on his childhood bed, in the Burrow. Oh, and he wore a tuxedo, because that's what people wear on weddings. Especially their own weddings.

Because Ronald Weasley was going to be married in just a few minutes, to his best friend and long-term crush, Hermione Granger.

In the back of his mind, he tried to convince himself that nothing could go wrong, he _knew_ that everything's going to be fine, but he was scared.

"Don't be. You know, this should be the happiest day of your life, you don't have time to be afraid." told him the third member of the infamous Golden Trio, Harry Potter.

"But what if she says no? What if she leaves me in the last moment because she realized she doesn't love me? She could choose another bloke at any moment." the redhead started to sound panicked.

"Look, if she didn't want this to happen, she would've backed out already, and she would've said no when you proposed. But she didn't. Listen, let me tell you something. She's been in love with you since forever. Remember when you hooked up Lavender in sixth year, and Hermione attacked you with those birds she summoned, and you couldn't understand why she did it?"

"Don't tell me she did it because she was jealous. She said she didn't care."

"Maybe she told you that because you 'had the emotional range of a teaspoon', as she would have said. And I would have to agree with her, you know. But believe me, you have changed since, and if she somehow fell in love with they guy you were back then, now she wouldn't leave the man you've become. And leaving you without a word is not really Hermione-ish, if you ask me." said Harry, while Ron just let out a sigh.

"I guess... I'm still nervous though. But, you couldn't know anyway, right? It's not like you've gotten married before."

"True enough. Maybe you should've asked Arthur instead of your best man. But hey, at least I'll be sure to ask you on my wedding day with Ginny."

"You know... It's still a bit strange that you're dating my sister, mate." Harry just let out a laugh.

"Well, you'll have to get used to it eventually. But, point is, don't be afraid. Remember when we went to search for clues in the Forbidden Forest, and we met Aragog amd his family?" the groom visibly shuddered at the thought of the giant spiders he once battled against. "Personally, I think it was a lot scarier than having to marry the girl you love."

"So I just have to think about spiders? Thanks, now I'm even more scared for my life, man." the redhead said with a slight sarcastic edge to his voice.

"Well," the green-eyed wizard threw his hands in the air. "I tried. But, I have a feeling that Hermione needs me too, so I'm going to check on her, okay? Just don't do anything stupid, for once" and with that, Ron was left alone, with his best friend's words still echoing in his head.

"Harry, I'm so glad you're here, you don't have a clue how stressed I was. How's Ron? Is everything set?" asked an almost crazed looking Hermione Granger, who was walking round and round in her room, seemingly unable to stop.

She's been over the top since very early in the morning, making sure that everything was perfect, so much she almost didn't have time for herself, like, at all. Luckily, the Weasley's took care of the most important things, so now here she was, in her plain white, strapless wedding dress which fit her like a glove, on the verge of tearing her hair out.

"Yeah, yeah, last time I checked, everything was going A-okay, but, please, for the love of Merlin, just sit down for a minute, because I'm getting dizzy from your circling."

"I..." she sighed. "Okay. Just, I'm so nervous, Harry! I'm sure you've heard this, but I can't stop thinking about what could go wrong. What if Ron decides to leave me for another swot, because I'm apparently not good enough? But that's not even the worst! What if... what if somebody attacks us? What if somebody doesn't want this to happen? What if..." she couldn't finish her sentence, because a very tired-looking Harry Potter placed his hand gently on her mouth.

"Don't even think about that, 'Mione. It's not going to happen, you have to trust me on that. I know the last time we saw a wedding, it ended in a Death Eater attack, but that was more than 3 years ago, and the war is over. It's not going to happen again, I promise you. And Ron won't leave you either. I just came from his room, and at one point he was literally on the verge of breaking down because he was so sure that you don't want to marry him. Even if he wanted to leave, he wouldn't after he sees your dress. I almost forgot to tell you that you look stunning." the wizard just smiled brightly at her, which Hermione finally returned.

"Thanks, you're not half bad yourself. I'm sorry for attacking you with my problems, too. Ginny have been trying to calm me down for hours, but I just couldn't, you know? I feel hyped up and worried at the same time, and it's taking a serious toll on my nerves."

"I can see that. I'm just wondering who's going to calm _my_ nerves after this." Harry let out a sigh. "Who knew being the best man for your two best friends' wedding was so tiring?" Hermione just shot him an apologetic smile before turning towards the huge mirror placed right beside the window.

"I'm pretty sure Ginny will try. She might even if you don't want her to. Speaking of which, have yout thought of proposing to her?" The witch smirked at the green-eyed wizard.

"Yeah. Eventually I will. I'm just waiting for the right moment, you know. In my opinion, it's not a question you just pop out of nowhere. I might be the hopeless romantic here, but if I'm thinking of making something special, I will be making it special, right?"

"True enough. Hey, thanks again for helping me. I don't think we could do this whole thing without you."

"There's a good side of making favors, you know." He smirked back at the bushy-haired witch.

"Being shady, aren't you?"

"Well, sometimes I have to let my dark side free. But, now that everybody's emotions are settled, I still need to check on a few things before we begin. So you just stay put, and relax a bit okay?" he asked, and after Hermione gave him a curt nod, he rushed down the stairs to make a last on everything.

While some slip-ups happened, as they always do, the wedding probably couldn't have gone better. The ceremony was officially over, and the freshly weds were now having their first dance, casting out everything and everyone outside. They looked happy, for once, and Harry Potter sighed while he was leaning against one of the four walls of the ballroom.

"It was worth it, right, Harry?" asked one particular Ginny Weasley, who was standing right beside her boyfriend.

"I guess." he answered, still looking at the pair on the dancefloor. "Hey, Ginny."

"Yeah?"

"You wanna dance?" he offered his hand to the hirl beside him, and she took it without a question.

"Sure." she looked into the green eyes, and she knew, that no matter what happens next, now, all was well.

 **Reviews are always appreciated and cherished, hope you enjoyed!**


	3. 3: Learn to Lose

**Disclaimer: I probably wouldn't be writing fanfiction if I owned the characters and the plot's universe. But I don't. Yeah.**

 **A/N: Written for the Ultimate Battle Challenge II (I think I'm gonna be using an abbreviation for that later on), with the prompt "Somebody's first duel."**

 **I was also absolutely inspirationless with the names and apparently the story turned out a little bit weird, in retrospect.**

 **Nevertheless, Enjoi!**

 **-line break ayyy-**

There's a proverb, which goes like "Pepper is small but strong."

And, while that may be true sometimes, sometimes it's just simply not. Like this time, since Filius Flitwick was small, even though he was nearing his fourteenth birthday, but he wasn't strong.

He wasn't strong, but he was smart and witty, and his Ravenclaw-themed Hogwarts uniform proved that pretty nicely.

Poor thing is that he wasn't always recognized for his abilities. It didn't matter that he was at the top of his class in various subjects, and especially Charms, there were people at all times who just couldn't see beyond the fact that he still had some goblin blood running in his veins.

And, even though he did go through bad times on days, this particular day, life was especially unfair with him.

It was the afternoon, and he didn't have any classes left as a third year, so he and his friends decided to have a 'study and chill' time near the Black Lake. And it was all right until some fifth year Slytherins neared them, with a smug smile plastered over their faces.

"Oi, look who we have here? It's Little Filly and his bookworm friends, right?"

"You should know by now that we will not debate about such things with you, because it's silly. If you really want to pick on somebody, which I advise you don't, then find someone else." said Thomas, the most outspoken member if the Ravenclaw gang.

"Are you afraid then? Shame on you then, I thought you lot had more courage than that. Well, I guess today we learned why weren't you sorted into Gryffindor, right?" noted another Slytherin boy, while playing with his wand in his right hand.

"I am not scared, I'm simply being reasonable. You didn't think I would confront you in the middle of the school grounds, did you?" Thomas answered with his head held high.

"Well, that just makes my work easier. *Stupefy!*" shouted the boy in green, and without thinking, Filius raised his wand and tried to protect Thomas with the first hex that came into his mind.

"*Expelliarmus!* the two rays of magic clashed, and both went in different directions without hitting anybody.

"Oh, I knew one of you would come around. Let's have some fun, aye?" the Slytherin boy raised his wand, ready to strike, but Roy, another Ravenclaw cut his words before he could jinx them.

"Hey, hey. Can we not do this? I do not want to get detention if a teacher cathes us here."

"That doesn't really stop me, you know. *Obstructo!*" exclaimed the other, but the half-goblin once again chanted a *Protego*, so the hex didn't harm anybody. Filius didn't want to duel, not because he didn't believe in his capabilities, but because he was never the one to settle disaggreements the agressive way. But he just couldn't let a bully hurt his mates, and he knew that words wouldn't work on this occasion. He felt like he had to stand up for himself for once, and if it took a wizarding duel, then even if reluctantly so, but he was going to take the opportunity.

"Roy, Thomas, let me handle this. I don't think we could talk him out." he said, and his classmates just stared at him, not knowing what to say. Certainly, they did not want detention, nor they wanted to get hexed, it was for the better if they watched from the sidelines.

And so it began. Jinxes started to fly all around the place, but for a considerable period of time, the Slytherin and the Ravenclaw couldn't make a final move on the other. It wasn't a pretty battle though, but anybody would admit that if they could have a duel like this particular one was, they would be pretty damn proud.

But of course, no duel between students goes unnoticed. Even when most of the sixth and seventh years still had remaining classes, peers from other houses and years gathered around, and watched the happenings, while others just thought it would be better if a professor stopped it. They weren't exactly wrong in that sense, either.

And it did not take particularly long until somebody found a currently free teacher, who just happened to be Armando Dippet, the aging Headmaster of Hogwarts. But even when he arrived, all he saw was an exhausted Ravenclaw boy lying in the grass, with the fifth year Slytherin pointing a wand towards him. The professor heard that a duel happened here, but by now it was certain who has won, but he didn't slow down until he stopped right beside the older boy, simply out of the fear that something worse might happen.

"I hope you both do understand that I have to give you a week of detention for dueling outside Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. And, if you do not wish your actions to bear further consequences, I advise you do not try it again. Please report in my office at 8 o'clock, precisely." Nobody made a sound. Most of the students decided it was best to go as far as possible from the battle so as to not get associated with it in any way, and those who stayed had no opposition. Some arguments would might have worth it, but no one could say that the punishment wasn't justified. Breaking the rules are breaking the rules, sometimes it's fun, other times it's not, but if you get caught, you have to face what comes next.

At least this is what Filius thought. He lost, and he knew it. Now he knew that even if he believed he could beat somebody bigger than him, but maybe he wasn't experienced enough, maybe he wasn't strong enough, but none of that really matters, because he lost. And he decided that although it was a useful life experience, he's ought to get better. He's ought to show everyone that even he can do big things, even he can be the best at something which isn't studying. Now thathe learned how to lose, he has to learn how not to lose. And, that day, even though fate was particularly unfair to him, he decided that one day, he would be known as a great dueler.

 **-line break ayy-**

 **A/N: I honestly don't know how this turned out, but reviews are always appreciated and cherished, hope you enjoyed it! :D**


	4. 4: Beginnings

**A/N: Written for UBC II, prompt: a one-shot which isn't Golden Trio era.**

 **There you have some next-gen goodness. (Also I got James' house from the HP Wikia, I didn't change that)**

 **Enjoi!**

-line break-

It was well past noon in Scotland on the 1st of September in 2015, and James Sirius Potter was sitting on the Hogwarts Express, his forehead pressed against the glass window he sit next to, and he was looking at the huge fields the train moved by. It was an astonishing sight alright, but he wasn't indulged in the nature, but more so his own thoughts.

He had a million questions, and it was slightly frustrating, but mainly just daunting that he wouldn't find the answers until later that night.

He thought about the upcoming sorting, just like probably every single first year on the train did. Except, others had at least a faint idea of which house would they fit in the most, while the Potter boy really didn't.

He asked his father for help, hoping thay he would give him advice just like he usually does, but Harry only said that he had to make that decision for himself, without influence, but also that for him, it didn't matter at all as long as James was happy with the result. And while the younger boy appreciated these thoughts, they didn't help him. He had absolutely no clue where he belonged.

Did he belong at all? His father told him about the Sorting Hat, and how it listens ti everyone's requests, and how that is mostly why he got into Gryffindor. Maybe he would ask the hat, if it did its work the best way possible, it would know the right answer. But what if even the Sorting Hat couldn't decide? What if he would be a Hatstall, amd stayed there for hours or even longer because no one could tell where his heart lies?

He thought about it for the longest time possible, but he wouldn't be surprised by anthing.

He came from an all-Gryffindor family, so no one would question it if he would be a lion too. He did take risks from time to time, but was he courageous enough? If being a Gryffindor meant the braveness that his parents and cousins had, he wasn't so sure about being the same.

People often said that he was intelligent considering his age, but it's not like his school grades were stainless. There were things he was interested in, but he certainly wasn't a brainiac.

Of course, as the eldest child in the family, he had a certain amount of power and he knew how to use it well enough, but he wouldn't say he was cunning. Being the best was of course a good thing, but not necessarily his first priority.

And of course, loyalty and friendliness, being open to the world. It sounded inviting too, and he was raised to be a good person, but he always had a knack for being selfish, and he often picked on Albus. He wasn't a bad person, he just had some bad traits.

And so he had no answer to his dilemma. But he suspected that he wouldn't find the answer anyway until the Sorting, so he gave up on thinking, and turned back to the other people in the cabin.  
-

Professor McGonagall called out his name, so he stepped closer to the little three-legged chair, sat down, and soon, the Sorting Hat was placed on his head.

"Hm..." James heard the voice of the Sorting Hat echoing in his head. "Interesting. You have potential for a lot of things, just like your ancestors. You could go big in Ravenclaw, or maybe Gryffindor, you know."

"Just put me in a place where I'll be happy, place me in the house which everybody will be happy with." He thought. "I don't care as long as I have a chance to be happy in my house."

"Where you're happy? Well, there are different places where you can find happiness. I believe deep down you're just as brave as your parents then, your house should be GRYFFINDOR!" The last word was heard by the whole student body if Hogwarts, and those at the Gryffindor table cheered with a particularly loud volume. The jet black haired boy stood up, and with a huge smile on his face, he stepped closer to his new housemates.

The Sorting Hat wasn't wrong, he was happy at the moment. He didn't know yet if he would be happier in another house, but he knew that he was here for a reason, and if he was placed in Gryffindor, it must have been the right choice.

So that night, when he laid down in his dorm and his eyelids closed as he drifted off to sleep, he was still wearing his smile from before.

-line break-

 **Reviews are always appreciated and cherished, hope you enjoyed!**


	5. 5: Cold and Empty

**A/N: Written for the UBC II. Prompt: Celebrating a holiday, at least 2000 words.**

 **Kind of a warning, because kind of angst.**

 **Enjoi!**

* * *

Alone.

He was all alone this morning, just like every other morning for years, and years to come, most probably.

He has gotten somewhat used to the feeling, the feeling you get when you have no one to talk about your upcoming and very dull daily routine, the feeling when you always make breakfast for one person and one person only, and it's yourself.

The feeling when you wake up and your bed is either too big because only you sleep in it, or it's too small because it's not queen-sized. You would not need one.

The feeling when you wake up to the deafening silence in your room, and it haunts you everywhere, it's coming from every wall around you, every object on your way, and you just by yourself are not enough to make it stop.

The feeling when you look out on your window and you see people laughing with each other, enjoying each other's company, living their at least somewhat cheerful life, and you realize that you are not one of them, that you are on your own.

The feeling when you cannot talk to anyone about how lonely you are, when nobody smiles at you if you feel down in the dumps, when nobody's there to dry your tears when you cry yourself to sleep.

The feeling when all you do is stare at your ceiling, and it would still be considered doing something interesting for once. And when you start to feel like it's normal, because it happens to you every day.

He has been living this existence, which he daren't call a life for years. And it was always the same. He knew it was not going to change either.

And sometimes, it was especially hard to keep on doing what he was doing with his life, for example, this day.

Because it was Christmas.

Christmas in general was something that once meant something to him. Once, back when he was still a kid, when he thought the world is good as it is, when he thought his parents cared about him enough, or at least they cared about him a bit, when he thought that everything is going fine, and it's going to stay that way.

His parents used to treat him with presents every single year, and he always got whatever he wanted. He was spoiled, he realized, but the realization was too late, even if it wasn't really that late, in retrospect.

It was like a second birthday every year. He did not even know why was Christmas a holiday, yet he always anticipated it greatly. Back then, he thought the whole ordeal was about his parents showing him how much they cared through objects, through presents which, even though they had probably cost a fortune, held nothing of emotional value.

But wasn't it what Christmas was all about? Emotional value. Showing your loved ones how much you care about them. It was, or at least it was supposed to be, and now, though he would be more than happy to do just that, he had no one left to care about.

He always wondered why poor people got excited when it came to the holidays. They wouldn't get much anyway, he thought, will they? They didn't have enough money, after all. He didn't realize what he was missing.

He thought those poor people just lived in their blind hope of once becoming rich and wealthy like him and his family, and he thought this whole fuss about Christmas was just about buying and buying.

Well, he admits he was wrong, though this admittance is not even bittersweet, it's depressing.

Then the war came, and lost his interest for a while. He had no time to think about generally happy things like Christmas. He had duties, he had to keep himself and at least his mother alive. He already gave up on his father. It was when he was sixteen that he realized that he was only used as a bait.

"He has to live up to his father's expectations, he has to be like him..."

Yeah, so that the blame can be put on him. But he could not back down anymore.

He had three years without properly celebrating the holidays.

Then, his father was put into prison, and he, with his mother, had to try to rebuild a reputation that couldn't be fully fixed anymore. He tried to make amends, and though he got a job, and was somewhat accepted into the new society that started to build up at that time, he never made such a good impression that he could have gotten back in the elite.

He and his mother lived a quiet, reserved life after that, for years again. Sometimes she tried to convince him to try and go out, and that he should get some friends, it would be good for him. And she didn't say that in vain, she said it because she wanted her son to get better, she wanted him to go and live his youth like every normal bloke his age did, and she just wanted him to stop worrying about her all the time, because she knew she would be okay, it all would be okay.

But no, he wanted to spend his time with his mother, to try to get back the time he lost in his early years.

And Christmas felt better those years. They would give each other presents alright, but it was not anything big. They did not need anything big. They bought personal presents, ones the other would cherish. Strangely enough, the two of them felt much more like a family than before. And then, Christmas meant something to him. He was as happy as he would get those days.

He was happy, because those days he would feel that finally he made a good decision by staying with her. Although his mother sometimes seemed sad that he never brought anyone to their manor, it seemed like it was okay.

But everything ends once, and his mother died after being sick for months before. And he couldn't live in the same place anymore. So, he bought a little apartment in city of London, on one of the smaller streets.

And he has been alone ever since.

Every Christmas, he would wake up at noon, shave, or not, depending on his mood, he would eat leftovers, and he would go down to the local pub, buy a drink, then another, and another, and another, until he wasn't conscious anymore. Usually, he would be awakened the next day by the noises of life, or occasionally, by a kick between his ribs, most probably on the street. Sometimes, the bartender would get him back in his apartment, if he was in a generous mood. He would have to say this bartender was his only, kind of friend, since the two of them would sometimes tell stories of their childhood to the other, and they came to the conclusion that life sucks indeed, when he was at the bar.

Other than that, every day he woke up alone, got ready for his day alone, worked alone, though sometimes his assistants chatted with him about life and its assets, he went home alone, he ate alone, he drank alone, and he slept alone.

And this day, he did just that. He woke up alone and surprisingly early, so early he even had time to make breakfast. He listened to the sounds of silence while he prepared the simplest thing he could think of, toast with scrambled eggs. Then, he decided that it was Christmas after all, it was time to get some fresh air, so he stood on his balcony for a bit, while smoking cigarettes, one after another, just so the fresh air wouldn't be too fresh for him. And he just thought. He just thought about how much he hated this life he had, but how he was still afraid to make a change. Because nobody told him what to do, how to be less miserable, how to smile, how to be happy again. Such a shame, he thought.

After he went back, he ate lunch. His usual meal of leftovers now consisted of the bolognese spaghetti he bought just the other day. And he still hasn't let out a single sound, the whole day. Not speaking much was part of his routine too. He then proceeded to read a book in his little study, in complete silence.

The walls of his apartment had no decorations. He didn't buy a christmas tree either. He didn't want anything to remind him of the holiday, he didn't want to acknowledge the so-called importance of the date. He wanted this day to be just another ordinary day in his calendar. He wanted this whole damn thing to be non-existent. He just wanted to forget. But no matter how hard he tried to ignore everything that was in connection with Christmas, he just couldn't. He heard the whispers about getting presents for the family, he heard the laughs, he saw the couples, and he saw the children too. They don't know about all of it yet, he thought whenever he saw a kid running around and pointing at every single shop window.

It was too cheerful for him. He didn't want this happiness anymore. He just wanted to go back in time, and change everything for the better, so maybe he wouldn't end up here. But he knew he couldn't. You can't change the past, no matter how hard you try. Even magic did not reach that far.

And when he thought of that, he felt the tears prickling his eyes, he felt his breathing as it got heavier and heavier, and though he did not want to cry, he could not stop the tears from falling. And once he let that first drop roll down on his cheek, came the next, and another, and another, and another. He always thought he was better than to cry, he thought he was stronger than to cry, he thought he was above something so simplistic as crying. He had this mask he had mastered over the years, and he thought that if people perceived him as cold, he could be cold on the inside too. But he just couldn't be. He was not cold. He was empty. He was empty because he had no one to live for anymore, he had no one to love. He had pushed every single chance he had away, firstly because he was taught that love and such were only for the fools, and after he learned it was all a lie, he still did not accept any help he could have gotten, because he selfishly thought he could manage his life and that this very life would somehow eventually take a better and livable direction on its own. Unluckily for him, that did not happen, and he had to deal with every consequence of his actions.

And as he sat there, the pages of his book tainted with his salty tears, he suddenly felt hopeless. If he would have wanted to, he would have done anything by now, but he did not. Maybe he didn't belong here anymore, not in this life. He did not know. He didn't know anything about life and such anymore. All he knew was that he was going to do what he have been doing every year since his mother's death.

"Merry Christmas everybody." he said as threw the book on the floor, stood up, and he walked out of the office, the apartment, and he didn't stop until he plopped down onto his usual seat in the little bar on the corner.

* * *

 **Reviews are always appreciated and cherished, hope you enjoyed!**


	6. 6: Happy Birthday

**A/N: Written for the UBC 2. Prompt: AU, where everybody in the Black family gets along, at least 400 words.**

 **Enjoi!**

It was the seventeenth birthday of Sirius Black, and he anticipated it to be the best day of his life. Or, the second besides the day after, which he planned to have a party on. Which he also planned to be probably the best party ever.

But he was also happy that he could celebrate him officially being an adult - at least in the wizarding world - with his family.

The Black family had an almost notorious history, since it was one of the most ancient houses the wizarding world has ever seen, but what was surprising is that though through the centuries, many pureblooded families turned against muggles and muggleborns, the Blacks never did. Most of them still married into other noble houses, but somehow it never turned them to the dark side. They didn't burn anyone from the famous tapestry at Grimmauld Place 12 if they got associated with whom others considered 'lesser beings', no, but the complete opposite.

They welcomed the fresh blood, they thought that way, the house would have powerful and open-minded wizards and witches.

And though they still usually got into Slytherin, exceptions were made, and they were never a problem.

And thus, Sirius Orion Black had a wonderful childhood. He had everything he wanted, and since he wasn't that greedy, all he wanted was to have friends who would stick with him through hit and cold, and his family to stay the way it was. He especially wanted his brother to be protected, since Voldemort has started to gain power and followers, and he didn't want his younger sibling to get involved with it in any way. Some may say he was overprotective when it came to Regulus, but he always said he was just cautious, and he felt like it justified all his actions.

Luckily enough, even when they were labeled as blood traitors, the Blacks sticked together and they sticked to their beliefs.

And so, Sirius' seventeenth birthday came. He woke up earlier than anybody expected, especially himself, since it was a well-known fact that he always slept until noon, at least whenever he could. But not today.

He shot down the stairs, while shouting a surprisingly loud "Good morning everybody!", so that literally everybody in the house would wake up, even if they didn't want to. Luckily for him, only his cousin, Bellatrix was still sleeping, but soon she appeared in the door of the dining room where the breakfast was already ready to be eaten, while muttering various curses under her breath.

"Oh, hey, look, the sleeping princess finally woke up from her century-long dream" said a very smirking Sirius.

"You know, you shouldn't be the one to talk. I'm not the one who never wakes up until 2 o'clock if it's not his birthday." came the answer from Bellatrix who plopped down onto the last free chair around the table.

"Aw, somebody seems a bit moody today."

"I would appreciate it if you'd just shut up."

"Where's the please?"

"No, you're not playing that game with me. Not today. Not anytime, for that matter."

"Meh, you're not fun enough to talk to anyway. Sooo, what do you all plan to do today?" Sirius turned to face the occupants of the rest of the table, who happened to be Orion and Walburga, his parents, and his two other cousins, Narcissa and Andromeda.

"Well," started his mother. "As you know, we invited your aunts and uncles over for tea, and they should be arriving soon. Speaking of which, Kreacher!" the house-elf immediately popped up, right next to Walburga.

"Yes, Mastress? What can I do for the Mastress?"

"Prepare tea for our guests. And rather quickly as well."

"As the Mastress wishes." he answered, and popped away.

"Tea? Really? But that's boring. Can't we do something more exciting? Like, a family Quidditch match? James' family usuall have those." Sirius moaned.

"No. I know it's your birthday, but there are certain traditions you must keep to. Understand?" his mother replied.

"But moooom, pleeeeease!"

"You're acting like you're not seventeen, but five, if you ask me." Narcissa chimed in, who was quietly sipping her coffe until now.

"I actually want to play Quidditch too, if you don't mind." said Regulus.

"Same here. We can occasionally have fun, right?" commented Andromeda.

"Okay, Bellatrix, what do you think?" Sirius once again turned to his cousin, this time with the best puppy eyes he could manage. Which was actually pretty legit, since his animagus form was a dog, and all.

"Leave me alone."

"I take that as a yes. See, four to two! We're going to play Quidditch, ain't we?"

"No. You won't." insisted Walburga.

"You know what?" Orion finally looked up from his Daily Prophet for the first time. "I think we can all agree, if we do both. We'll have tea with the family, and then we have an all-Black family Quidditch match. Okay?" Sirius just sighed.

"Fine, whatever. As long as we're having that match. Mom?"

"Very well, then. But only after tea." she reluctantly agreed.

"Deal." said Sirius and he knew that even if he had to sit through two hours of political talk over non-alcoholic substances, it would be worth it whe he could beat his uncle Alphard later on.

 **Reviews are always appreciated and cherished, hope you enjoyed!**


	7. 7: With a Little Help

**A/N: Written for the UBC 2. Prompt: 777 words.**

 **Enjoi!**

* * *

25th December 1983  
The Burrow

"Frederick Gideon Weasley, you put that kettle back on the table right now!" screeched a very frustrated Molly Weasley in such a high volume, that probably the whole town of Ottery St. Catchpole could have heard it, if it wasn't for all the protective and anti-muggle charms around the house.

She was tired. Very tired. And there was nothing she could do about it, because it was only the beginning of the holidays, and there was barely any help for her, since her close family, at this point, looked something like this:

The two year old Ginny and her youngest brother, Ron, were fighting over a plush, which was the boy's Christmas present and current favorite, until Ginny decided that then it was going to be her favorite too, so she simply exclaimed it was her, and tore it out of her brother's hands in one of his weaker moments. Now that caused a huge quarrel between the two of them, which consisted of them screaming "Thief!", "Mine!", and terms as such at each other, while they both wanted the plush as theirs. This resulted in the toy getting torn apart, and here they are, the two kids were now sobbing over the remains of the mini-hippogriff, still shooting some accusing glances at the other.

Fred and George, of course, were running around, causing mischief wherever and whenever they could, and they wouldn't be the one to clean up after they made mess, Molly knew that well. At this point of time, they were playing a weird kind of hide and seek around the kitchen, where Molly was trying to cook up the dinner, which, if all would have went well, would have been already done by now. Now, in the middle of that, the twins decided that they would go and try to steal every helpful object they could, then place at the most random places in the house. For example, there was a frying pan in the garage, which Arthur found a few hours later.

The calmest person in the whole family was the seven year old Percy, who was quietly reading a book in the living room, occasionally looking up and noting that he couldn't concentrate because of the noise, or glancing scornfully at his brothers. At least he was somewhat peaceful, though it didn't help much at this point.

Bill and Charlie were initially talking about Hogwarts, since Bill has just come home for the holidays, and Charlie was ecstatic since he was already 11, and were going to start studying magic in September too. But after a while, they grew tired of being inside for so long, so now they were asking if they could go and play Quidditch outside every 5 minutes, and Molly had to decline their request every single time, knowing that her husband would let them if they were convincing enough. And she did not want to deal with a possible flu on top of everything.

And last, but not least, the grandparents were late. They promised to arrive at 4 o'clock, so that they could have a tea before dinner too. But of course, there was some last minute urgency, so a patronus informed Molly about half an hour after the originally planned time, that they were going to miss tea and just arrive for dinner instead.

And so, Arthur and Molly had to keep everything in hand with seven kids.

Dealing with the kids would have been a nightmare in itself too, but of course it wasn't enough, since the Christmas tree had its own thoughts, and fell over. So, Arthur had to do something about the fallen decorations, and it was going to take a considerable amount of time.

To sum it up, the pair was screwed on a whole new level.

And it was at that moment, that Molly heard smebody entering the house. She hadn't a clue who it could be, but she was sure they wouldn't help.

To her surprise and relief, she was wrong. Standing in the doorway was her aunt, Muriel. Molly wasn't the fondest of her, to tell the truth, but she knew that every hand could come helpful.

"Ah, Aunt Muriel, how nice to see you."

"Well, you didn't expect me to miss Christmas dinner, did you?"

"No, not really. But actually, I was jut wondering if you could help me with the kids, they are a bit too much."

"I told you that you shouldn't have so many, didn't I? But very well. Where is my Billy boy?"

And Molly knew at that moment that the day wouldn't be disastrous after all.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, this came out a bit weird, but reviews are always appreciated and cherished, hope you enjoyed nevertheless!**


	8. 8: Untitled

**A/N: Written for the UBC 2. Prompt: a murder, at least 800 words.**

 **(And a bit more of investigator!Harry, because I actually got a liking for this side of his character, after I've written it once)**

 **Enjoi!**

"Mate, how did this happen?" asked Ron Weasley from his fellow auror and best friend, Harry Potter, who was currently investigating the scene of a very recent crime, so recent the body was still there.

"I have no idea. But if you think about it, the bloke did have enough long-term haters to have one actually kill him." answered the black-aired wizard, who was currently inspecting a broken window from a very close range. There was not much at the crime scene to investigate, if one wanted to be completely honest, since it seemed the crime was committed in the middle of the night, on a pretty dim and narrow alley. Where else, right? But of course, the duo still had to see everything for themselves, reports never got written by themselves.

"True enough. Whoever it was, he really could have done it earlier. I hated the guts of this git."

"Mate. Don't be a such a jerk. I never liked him either, but that doesn't mean he deserved to die, just like that."

"But now really, at least he's out of the way. Who do you think killed him?"

"As I said, I have no idea. But it's unlikely that a muggle did it, even though we didn't find traces of the killing curse. You know that he was never the part of any muggle circles, as far as I know at least."

"Then how was he killed? Simply casting an _Avada_ would certainly be the most effective way, right?"

"Well, according to Peter over there," Harry pointed to his colleague, who was in a deep conversation with another auror just a few meters away. "he was stabbed. With a simple gut knife. They're still looking over it, but they haven't found any charms on it yet. See, this is why it's curious. It absolutely seems like the culprit didn't use magic at all. But then again, the victim never got close to any muggles. He hated their 'species', remember?"

"Yeah, I totally do." Ron narrowed his eyes. "I still don't understand why, though. And you know that those people piss me off."

"Me neither, trust me. Got any idea what could have happened?"

"Not really, I'm not good at the whole mystery-researching part of this job, you know. But actually… A squib, maybe? He was skeptical of them, too. And I'm pretty sure he must have known a few squibs, at least."

"Actually, you know what? That's not a bad idea at all. I guess we can call that our first clue, even."

"You still sound so surprised when I actually do some mindwork." the redhead sighed.

"Well, that may be because it's still a rare occasion."

"Oh, just shut up, okay? Wait, actually, don't shut up just yet. I still have questions. So, when did this little… 'accident' happen exactly? And just how?"

"Well, the date of the attack is something I don't know yet, the guys haven't told me. Or they haven't figured it out." he took a peek again Peter and his colleague again. "But either way, the broken windows would tell me that the victim actually tried to escape, but I don't think that's the reason. There wasn't any blood on the glass anyway, and I'm almost absolutely sure that breaking through the window frame would have at least scratched him. But I actually think the window was broken before they got here. So, that's a dead end."

"And what if he didn't try to escape? What if they were already here when the murder took place?"

"You mean a meeting of sorts?"

"Kind of. But that's just an idea."

"That's actually possible. Maybe they were going to make a shady deal, we know well he was capable of doing such things. But then the attacker must be somebody he didn't expect. Maybe even a friend of his, sort of. I mean, if you were to bump into a guy you don't trust at least a bit, you would be wary of them, and you'd be prepared for an attack, right?"

"You know that as an auror, I always have to be prepared."

"I know, but that's not what I mean. I have a feeling that he would be unarmed against people he's close with, which might have been the biggest mistake of his life, if you catch my drift."

"But who _was_ that close to him anyway? He didn't have many close friends, or it wouldn't seem so anyway."

"Well, I know some people. Not much, you're right on that, but there are some suspects, if we think about it like that. And hey, at least we did narrow down the suspects."

"You know, I could imagine that he thought of himself so highly that he never went to meetings actually prepared, he thought he wouldn't be harmed anyway."

"Maybe, but I don't actually think so. Look, we would have had to ask his relatives and closest acquaintances anyway. At least now we don't have to go after a random bloke we know nothing about."

"True enough. So, who will we start with?"

 **Hope you enjoyed, and remember, reviews are always appreciated and cherished, hope you enjoyed!**


	9. 9: Quidditch

**A/N: Ultimate Battle Challenge: Action genre, at least 1400 words.**

 **The If You Dare Prompt Challenge: 84 (An arm and a leg – interpreted as dialogue prompt)**

 **Note: Only one of the characters is named by me (Jason from Gryffindor), I mostly looked the Hufflepuffs up on HP Wikia (though I didn't look up which years they were mentioned, I'm sorry for any mistakes on that matter).**

 **Enjoi!**

"Okay guys, this is our last match of the season, and against Hufflepuff, no less. It's the last match of our Hogwarts career for Jason here" the redhead boy pointed his index finger to the other seventh-year Gryffindor in the changing room. "and me, of course. So, let's have some fun, got it? On the count of three!" Seven hands piled up in a circle in a moment. "One, two, three!"

"GRYFFINDOR!" the team shouted while throwing their hands in the air. After that, everyone grabbed their respective brooms, and started towards the exit.

"Oh, and one more thing." Charlie Weasley, the Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team said. "Try to win. No, forget that. You _will_ win, even if it costs you an arm and a leg, understood?" he just earned a bunch of troubled looks in response. "Just kidding, just kidding. But you could really try, at least for once."

"It doesn't matter, mate, we won't win the House Cup either way." noted the brown-haired boy named Jason.

"I know, but wouldn't it be nice if we said goodbye with ripping Hufflepuff into pieces? Especially Tonks, she's been acting too conceited lately with her plans of being and Auror and all."

"What a nice way to speak of a friend. Though I'm pretty sure you're just saying that to have an excuse for beating her team."

"First of all, you have no say in how I treat my friends. Second of all, you're absolutely right. Let's go, team!" And with that, seven pairs of boots trapped out onto the grassy Quidditch fields, where the Hufflepuff team, all dressed in yellow were already waiting in a line, so they lined up quickly too, waiting for the whistle which indicated the beginning of the match.

"Up!" shouted Madam Hooch after a few moments, to which fifteen brooms levitated off the earth. Then, she blew her whistle and chaos – or what people would call a Quidditch match – began.

Since the Snitch usually didn't show up for a few minutes into the match, Charlie decided to stay on the side of the arena, looking out for the miniature-sized golden ball. He had to admit, in terms of experience, he had a much better chance of getting the desired 150 point for his team, since the Seeker of the other team was merely a second year, Cedric Diggory. _Though_ , Charlie thought, _he's one fast bloke alright._

"And, the Quaffle is in the hands of the eldest Gryffindor chaser, Jason Burnham, who soon passes to newbie Alicia Spinnet! She's closing in on the Hufflepuff keeper, but oh! What an unfortunate turn of events, a well-aimed Bludger sent by Nymphadora Tonks snatches the Quaffle out of Alicia's hand, and it is now in the hands of Heidi Macavoy from Hufflepuff! She passes to Malcom Preece, then Tamsin Applebee, who seems to be in throwing distance from the Gryffindor poles, he throws, and… Oh, what a nice catch from fourth-year Oliver Wood, Keeper of the Gryffindor team! It certainly seems like the lions are on fire today, I have no doubt they will win this match with ease too…" said the newfound commentator, Lee Jordan, and he quickly corrected after a faint "Jordan! How many times do I have to tell you to be unbiased?" was heard in the microphone, the words undeniably coming from McGonagall's mouth. "I'm sorry, Professor, I didn't mean it that way! Though, the Quaffle is once again with Gryffindor, which clearly indicates the team has a good day. No, Professor, I'm not trying to intentionally root for any team! Back to the match, right now Angelina Johnson has the Quaffle, throws, and it goes in the left pole, just beside Herbert Fleet, the Keeper of the badgers, and Gryffindor is leading 10 to 0!" sounded the voice of the commentator.

Though the Snitch couldn't be seen anywhere yet, Charlie adjusted his position a bit, to get a better view on the field. The team seemed to be in a good form, which was a relief to him, in a way. At least now he didn't have to look particularly out for the performance of his teammates, he only had to concentrate on catching the Snitch as soon as possible.

It seemed like this time the newbie tactic he used was paying off. He did notice at the beginning of the school year that the team indeed had 4 new second-year members, including his devilish twin brothers, but he let all of it slide, since they were the best at tryouts anyway, and he also thought that if these four will play in the team for the remainder of their Hogwarts career, they will easily be one of the best teams the school has seen in decades.

Though before he could continue his thoughts on this matter, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something shiny floating around at the other end of the arena. He couldn't be sure from this distance, but if it was indeed the Golden Snitch, he couldn't miss it, not this time, so he leaned on his broom and speeded towards the glint. It seemed like Cedric noticed it too, so the two Seekers were head-to-head, closing on the little ball. This was, up until both Bludgers decided to fly towards the Seekers, and since they were so focused on getting to the Snitch before the other, the black balls hit both of them on the back, to which they both lost balance, the Hufflepuff only hanging on one hand after getting knocked down, and Charlie still having half of his legs around the broomstick, though now the broom was over him, so he had to find a way to get back onto it. And with that, the Snitch quietly floated away, so neither team had the chance to end the game again.

All the while, the Hufflepuff team seemed to get back into the game, and now were leading 50 to 30, thanks to the considerable amount of work from their Beaters, Tonks and Anthony Rickett, a third-year.

The stadium was louder than every with cheers, half of them for Gryffindor, half of them for Hufflepuff. While the Slytherins were mostly rooting for Hufflepuff, simply out of spite against the Gryffindor team, the Ravenclaws seemed to be on the side of the lions, because they knew they would get closer to winning the Quidditch Cup against Slytherin this year if the Gryffindors beat the badgers.

"Oh, it seemed like both Seekers found the Snitch, but unluckily, a set of Bludgers came in their way, so the match continues! Though, while all of you were watching the Snitch hunt, the Gryffindors scored once again, so it's almost a tie now, 40 to 50 with Hufflepuff leading, and right now they also have the Quaffle, namely Heidi Macavoy again, who has thrown the most points for her team this match, three out of the five. She tries to score again this time, and… It's in! Oliver Wood read the throw wrong, and the lions again have a 20 points deficit, though the Quaffle is back in Alicia Spinnet's hand!" boomed the voice of Lee Jordan all over the arena, while Charlie once again started to circle all around, after he successfully struggled back onto his broom.

Though the team did look good earlier this day, he also realized that this game was going to stay this way if he doesn't find the Snitch first. Running from behind was never easy, even at a Quidditch match, where almost everything was possible, but years of practice taught Charlie to deal with the pressure, so he didn't even bother to worry about the score anymore. Not that it would matter for his house, anyway. It made him a bit sad that they couldn't once win while he was in Hogwarts, and even more so because Slytherin once again looked forward to winning for the seventh time in a row, but he had fun while it lasted, and that was all that mattered, right?

With that though, he again noticed something shiny, though this time from much closer, so he could easily tell this was his chance to end the match and get some of that well-earned glory to his team, so he once again sped up and closed in on the Snitch. To his relief, the Hufflepuff Seeker was behind him this time, and it seemed like the Beaters haven't noticed his action, so a few moments later, his fingers curled around the little golden ball, and he triumphantly threw his hand in the air, with a sincere smile on his face.

"Charlie Weasley, the Seeker of the Gryffindor team caught the Snitch, and with that, the lions win with a 200 – 70 score line! See, Professor? The Gryffindor team really was in good form today!" said Lee, while the teams landed and proceeded to shake hands.

While the team were walking back to their changing rooms, Jason nudged Charlie's side with his elbow. "Hey, mate, I think we did it."

"Yeah, we did, at last."

 **Reviews are always appreciated and cherished, hope you enjoyed!**


	10. 10: An Interview with a Slytherin

**A/N: Challenges: The If You Dare Prompt Challenge: 346 – My personality (interpreted as dialogue/theme prompt)**

 **Jessica Jones Dialogue Prompt Challenge: "My greatest weakness? I occasionally give a damn."**

 **Ultimate Battle Challenge 2**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: Astronomy Assignment #1 (Bonus Prompt: "I wish I knew how to speak to people without sounding like an idiot") –** **I also reimagined the Communication theme. They don't just communicate; they communicate about communication lol**

 **Enjoi!**

 _Witches Weekly_

 _In this week's issue: We caught Draco Malfoy, one of the most desired men of today's wizarding community for a brief interview, in which he told us many of his secrets. Interested? Turn to page 17 for more!_

"Is that okay, Mr. Malfoy?" asked the witch, who seemed to be in her 30s. She was sitting in a comfortable-looking armchair, with a quill and a notebook levitating in front of her. The quill seemed to move on its own accord, scribbling down words onto the paper with thick, black ink.

"Quite alright, yes, but may I ask you to use a normal quill? I did have some nasty accidents while dealing with preposterous rumors before, and I really don't want another." the man in the other armchair said with a seemingly innocent smile. Though, if one really knew him, they would also know he wasn't innocent at all.

"Ah, yeah, sure." the woman buried her hand in her handbag for a few minutes, and after a bit of rummaging, she pulled out another quill, which didn't differ from the other one in looks, although this one wasn't charmed, so it wouldn't work on its own. "Can we start then?"

"Fire away."

"As we all know, you're a very influential member of the British wizarding society. Surely, success doesn't come from nothing. Can you tell us how you managed to get hold of such a position?"

"Well, I really don't want to say it's because my family has a certain wealth, but it seems like money still have a certain amount of impact on today's community, which is a sad thing if you think about it." maybe one would know that Draco Malfoy did not exactly thought about it this way, but then one would also know that he had to hold up the image of a good boy as much as he could. It would be more benefitting, after all. "But, certainly that's not all. I like to think that having a certain amount of charm is a must. After all, your relationships are always based on personality."

"And can you tell us what your personality is?"

"My personality? Well, you could tell I always aim to please. When it comes to communicating with the right people, I like to think about myself as a patient but demanding person. You sometimes have to imagine you're in a powerful position in order to get what you desire, if you know what I mean." the witch nodded, indicating she was ready for him to continue. "But of course everything has its own limits. It is impossible to reach agreements without being genuine. Lying is not the answer, and I had to learn that from my past experiences." the blond said. It didn't really matter that this one sentence alone would have made him a hypocrite, since all he had to do is imagine every reader going "Aww!" upon reading it. Poor him alright. "And I would like to say one more thing. I think being reasonable is very important, since you can't really prove your point without thinking it through, could you?"

"Very well said, Mr. Malfoy. You said you had to learn from past experiences just now. Care to elaborate?"

"Well, if you know my Auror colleague and former arch enemy, Harry Potter, you would also know we weren't exactly on friendly terms while in Hogwarts. And in retrospect, it might have been because I messed up at every possible point. I was a spoiled brat, that's true, but I was also insincere when I thought it would be benefitting, and I sounded like I was above everything else, and I based this assumption solely on my blood status, which was extremely foolish of me. I cannot say sorry enough times, but I wish I knew how to speak to people without sounding like an idiot back then, I really do."

"Believe me, Mr. Malfoy, we all have taken your apologies to heart, and we know you're a changed man now. But, let me ask something interesting. We've heard a couple of good things about you in the past, but we've been neglecting your darker side lately. What would you say your biggest _weakness_ is?"

"My greatest weakness? I occasionally give a damn." the man let out a brief laugh before continuing. "But, if I really had to choose one, I would still say greediness, which is not a bad thing in general, but if you know me, you also know that if I want something, I get it, even if it costs more than its worth, and even after I get it, I still want more. I guess you could say it runs in the family, if there's something we, Malfoys can't rid ourselves from, it's greediness."

"Interesting. And what about your biggest strength?"

"Well, surely it would be greediness, if you know what I mean. Or, more like the need of property, a need of power. Because in my opinion, you can't something if you don't want to get it. And there's not much you can do if you own nothing."

"And what about emotional value? Like the need of love, family, and friends?"

"It is also a source of power, a property. Just not tangible, because it runs deeper. Surely, you must have heard of the prophecy that was about the defeat of the Dark Lord, and how it mentions something he knew not? Well, some say it must have been these emotional values, though I cannot know for sure. It certainly seems plausible, as you may also know I knew him personally through my family."

"Those were definitely dark times, yes."

"Indeed they were. Can we talk about something happier?"

"Well, I only have one question left for you, Mr. Malfoy in this topic. You must know you're a greatly wanted man in our society, by the most positive meaning of the word, and so, we're greedy to know as much as we can about your life. Can you tell me if you have your eyes on anyone? Last time I checked, you were single in the department of relationships, but surely, you must have set your sights on someone."

"Though that's kind of a personal matter, which I usually don't share, but I can tell you one thing, if you keep it a secret." he winked at the journalist in front of him. "I do have someone to go after, but I would rather keep this person's identity a secret. We don't have much going on yet, anyway. Hope that's enough."

"Oh, it certainly is. Moving on to the next topic…"

 **Reviews are always appreciated and cherished, hope you enjoyed!**


	11. 11: Perspective

**A/N: Bit of a continuation (more like unrelated prequel) to my other one-shot, "Quidditch". Not really though.**

 **Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry: Fairytales Assignment #1: Write about a minor character (Lee Jordan) + Bonus Prompts: [animal] cat, [name] Zezolla, [phrase] Bippity Boppity Boo! [dialogue] "It's… you.", [emotion] worthlessness, [word] care, [color] blue, [word] rainbow, [word] unknown, [item] wand**

 **Tarot Card Challenge: Strength secondary: At its worst, it represents defeat, weakness and self-indulgence. Struggle, and the loss of energy and hope.**

 **Enjoi!**

To be perfectly honest, Lee Jordan didn't plan his weekend to turn out so sadly, at least for him. No, he wanted to celebrate, or at least have a normal weekend, but Fate decided to play a very cruel game with him. Even the weather was so nice, it was already the middle of September, and the sky was bright blue, and just now even a rainbow was plastered all over it, with all of its seven bright colors.

He was planning on sending a note to his mother with his owl, Zezolla, all about the great things that happened to him over the week, but in retrospect, he had to admit that if he could, he would just erase the whole week from his memory.

It all began with the Potions essay the class wrote, to which he earned a sad D. Not because he didn't try, more like because Snape was still hell bent on getting every Gryffindor student to fail his class. Though he was used to it, he couldn't help feeling worthless when the Head of Slytherin told him he would never get to his third year for the hundredth time.

If that wasn't enough, he managed to get a P in Charms, which he considered to be one of his better classes. And let's not mention the newest prank of the Weasley twins, which would have brought him a bit of joy, as the unofficial third member of the gang, but this time, it all backfired when he, and him only, was caught while causing mischief again. And that's how he found himself with a month worth of detention with McGonagall.

It all seemed like it couldn't be worse, but then came the Quidditch tryouts. There were a few open spots in the team, since last year, a bunch of seven years graduated, so he thought he would try to get in one of the Chaser positions, as a second year. He would have like being a Beater more, but even the Slytherins would have had to agree on Fred and George being undeniably better. Maybehe should have known better, after the hellish week he had, but no, he thought maybe just one thing wouldn't go wrong.

Well, that was not the case. He didn't get in the team, but his classmates Alicia and Angelina did. Though he tried to convince himself he didn't care, it hurt him that apparently he was just merely average when it came to second years.

So, this whole week was the unluckiest he had ever had, in conclusion. It was as if the whole week, a black cat would've been circling around his feet, or he he'd drank the anti-potion of Felix Felicis. Come to think of it, he'd seen Mrs. Norris suspiciously often this week.

He was thinking of all his misery, and how things just didn't go his way in the deserted Gryffindor Common Room. He was alone, since it was almost midnight, and it was dark, the embers in the fireplace not lightening up anymore.

He was still trying to finish his Herbology essay. _Maybe I won't get such ridiculous grades next time_ , he thought, so he cast a quick _Lumos_ with his  wand, and continued writing in the dim light.

That was, until he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around, and was surprised to see the Weasley twins, trying to hide behind him, probably to scare him to death.

"It's… you." said Lee, not surprised at all.

"Bippity boppity boo!" said Fred in a resignated voice.

"We thought you wouldn't notice us." continued George.

"But I guess it didn't work this time."

"We'll come up with something better next time,"

"We promise." finished Fred. "Why are you here, anyway?"

"I could ask the very same thing. You have Quidditch practice tomorrow, shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"Oh, I understand now." said George. "Hey, mate, don't be sad about the whole tryout thing."

"You can try next year."

"Or…"

"We have a better offer."

"And it would suit you well."

"What kind of offer?" asked Lee with a deep sigh.

"Well, we talked to McGonagall."

"And she said she was in the need of a new commentator."

"And we thought only a Gryffindor would be able to fill the place."

"So…"

"What do you think?" the twins asked in unison.

"Me, as a commentator?" said Lee, more to himself than to anyone else in the room. "Why would that be good?"

"Think about it from a new perspective." said George.

"Like, when inventors invent something."

"When they venture into the unknown."

"And think outside the box."

"More like inside _another_ box." said George with a grin.

"Though you wouldn't play the game,"

"You would still be on the team."

"And in a role just as important,"

"Since we can't have a Slytherin as an announcer."

"What do you think now?" asked Fred. Lee suddenly didn't even know what to think. Did the twins just offer for him to be an honorary member of them, since he didn't get in? "You're our friend, after all."

 _Maybe this week wasn't that bad at last,_ he thought.

"Thank you."

 **Reviews are always appreciated and cherished, hope you enjoyed!**


	12. 12: Dragon Pox

**A/N: Warnings for those who might not like this kinda stuff: Unnecessary alcohol consumption, faint mention of using drugs. Mild swearing.**

 **The Ultimate AU Challenge: 3 (Rock star AU)**

 **The If You Dare Prompt Challenge: 853 (Rock star – as AU/theme prompt)**

 **Youtuber Quote Challenge: "I'm not sure what I'm doing is legal."**

 **Ultimate Battle Challenge 2: Singer AU, at least 600 words.**

 **Enjoi!**

"I'm not sure what I'm doing is legal." said Harry Potter, singer and rhythm guitarist of the band Dragon Pox, which, though was started years ago, was an only recently discovered pop-punk/easycore group based in southern Scotland. He was currently sitting in the backstage, since the sound check has ended, and it was only a few minutes until the start of their show. He was sipping a bottle of whiskey, seemingly not caring about the fact that it might not be healthy to get drunk just before the concert. Lately, he had a lot of stress on him, being the frontman and all, and with the speedily growing number of fans, he decided that numbing his senses would help him keeping his cool.

"You paid for it, it should be." answered Ron Weasley, the lead guitarist. "Mate, we're in a touring band. We do whatever the hell we want."

"But I'm still underage here! I mean, we're in the USA, and I'm not yet 21, they shouldn't have let me buy this drink here." he raised his bottle to emphasize his statement.

"I don't even know why you're worried about it. It's not like you're doing drugs or whatever. And I'm not the one drinking, anyway. Though, if you really want, we can share. I'm kinda stressing, too. This is our first overseas gig, after all."

"There you go." Harry held the whiskey towards his friend, who took a big gulp upon getting it. "Still, this whole thing is frightening, you know. I'm used to performing in front of a few hundred, but according to Bill, there will be more than a thousand out there." he pointed at the door, which led out onto the main stage. "I don't think I can do this."

"Mate, we've come this far, I'm not letting you back down now that we're actually somewhere with this project." Ron replied, taking another sip of alcohol. "Look, we've been doing music together for what, 5 years now? I tell you, you're not a guy who give up that easily. And what if we're the hype now? We're doing this because we want to, right? Then we should just do it. I mean, come on, I'm pretty sure you've faced worse things before."

"Falling down the stairs because you pursued me to try and leap over with a skateboard was scary, yeah, now that you mention it." Harry said, still glancing at the door. "Can you give me the alcohol back?"

"Sure." Ron handed the bottle back to his friend. "Just don't go overboard. If you drink yourself unconscious, I'm not getting you back onto the tour bus, and I'm definitely not putting you in your bunk. I've done that enough times lately."

"Yeah, I'm not worried about that. If you don't pick me up, someone else will anyway. Even if I don't want them to." he grinned at his friend.

"You should also try not to be an alcoholic. We're better than most bands in the scene, right?"

"Yeah, sure. Though I can understand where they're coming from. It kind of helps, you know."

"I swear, if the next time you come here and say weed is actually pretty awesome, my next life goal will be making you go straightedge."

"Hermione has a bad influence on you." Harry noted, while Ron looked up questioningly at the mention of his girlfriend.

"I can't help it. She's hot when she's making comments on my behavior." the redhead shrugged.

"I take it that's not the only reason you decided to date her."

"'Course not. You know she's smart and all. And we've been friends for almost 10 years."

"I know. I've been her friends since middle school too, remember?" he would've continued, but Dean Thomas, the drummer suddenly popped his head in the room from behind the door.

"Guys, we should be starting, hurry and get your asses out here!" he said, then left without another word.

"We'll continue this conversation later, okay?" Ron said, standing up and strolling towards the exit.

"Yeah, sure. If I don't get drunk again."

 **Reviews are always appreciated and cherished, hope you enjoyed!**


	13. 13: Desperate

**Prompts: Gryffindor Common Room, table, a kiss**

It was a pretty average evening for an average Hogwarts student, at least as average as an evening could be when a wizarding war was going on outside.

Which, in this case was pretty average for Romilda Vane, who was sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room on a deep red couch, doing what she was the best at, stalkerishly watching Harry Potter. She was pretty good at stalking the boy, though not because she was so good at hiding in the dark corners, but instead because Harry probably didn't even know who she was. Though, she decided long ago that this was going to change.

But it seemed like nothing worked so far. He didn't even remember her name. And as we all know, desperate times call for desperate measures, so she had to think about something more drastic, and this was the moment when she came up with the brilliant – at least it was brilliant in her mind – idea that she would make Harry jealous.

So, what she did was grab the nearest of the Hogwarts' male population – which just so happened to be Colin Creevey, who was currently sitting at the other end of said couch -, and pressed her lips against his in a fierce kiss, which the latter – let's just say – didn't expected at all. Her goal was to make this snogging session as conspicuous and show off-ish as she could, in which she did succeed in that matter that everybody turned their heads in their direction, some tiredly, some questioningly, other decidedly contemptuously. Everybody, except for the Golden Trio, who didn't even look up from the table at which the Granger girl was studying, like always, and it seemed that Ron was beating Harry in wizarding chess – again.

Romilda noticed this after she decided she had enough of the boy in front of him, and decided to glance in the direction of her long-term crush. But nothing. Literally nothing.

"Useless." she almost spat as she stormed off in the direction of the girls' dorms.

 _Desperate times call for desperate measures_ , she thought, _and that means we're moving on to Plan C._

 **A/N: So, this was just a little write-ling that popped into my mind (I don't like to picture anybody as a bitch, by the way, this time I just had to).**

 **As always, reviews are always appreciated and cherished, hope you enjoyed!**


	14. 14: The Time Neville Made a Good Potion

**A/N: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hopscotch: Prompts: Potions [lesson], „One wrong move, and we die."**

 **Enjoi!**

* * *

"While the Wiggenweld Potion can awaken people from magically induced sleep, such as the one caused by the Draught of Living Death, it has to be made with precautions, or else, the effect can be severe. If you make a mistake while brewing it, it can cause an explosion, and the incorrectly brewed potion, upon making contact with the skin, will likely be highly poisonous, and I doubt anyone has the antidote for it. Which means, if any of you don't take the necessary precautions, you will have a hard time."

Neville Longbottom worriedly looked at his assigned Potions pair, Seamus Finnigan, and after they were instructed to start making the potion, he sighed.

"We're absolutely done for." he said while setting up his cauldron and reading through the ingredients.

"Well, we still have to try. Maybe this time we'll actually get an A instead of the usual Ds and Ps." Seamus replied. "Look, we just have to try and follow the instructions, you try not to be clumsy, I try not to blow everything up. Deal?"

"I guess we can try." Neville looked a bit lost. "Okay, it says we need to add the salamander blood until the potion turns red."

"How much?"

"Uhm… It doesn't say. How much do we have?"

"I dunno, I just picked a random vial of it." the Irish boy said, shrugging his shoulder. "Do you think we should put it all in?"

"Wait, wait, wait. We'll need more of it later on. Just pour a few drops in, and hope it runs red." Seamus did as he was told, and much to his surprise, the water in the cauldron turned a bright shade of red as he did so. "Okay, we may have just nailed it. Do you remember how much you added in?"

"It was about 6 drops, or so…"

"Okay, just try to add the exact same amount the next time. The book says we have to stir the potion now until it turns orange."

"In which direction?"

"I don't know; it doesn't mention that either."

"Okay, I'll just go counter-clockwise, it always seems to work."

"Don't do that, what if it's the wrong direction? One wrong move and we die, remember?"

"Hey, don't exaggerate, do you have any better ideas?"

"We could ask somebody…"

"Don't even try it, Snape will rip our heads off if we do." Seamus shook his head. "Look, we have to go for the lucky guess here. Let me do this." And with further ado, he started stirring, which – luckily for the two of them – turned orange after a few minutes. "See, I told you it would work. What's the next step?"

"More salamander blood, until the potion's yellow, and then stir again until it's green."

"Okay, that means we're going all rainbow here. I think we got this. Can you give me the vial?"

* * *

A little less than an hour later, the cauldron was full of a boiling, pink-colored potion, almost done.

"This should be the last step, Seamus, and we're done then. Just add the remaining of salamander blood, and it should be green after you do. We can't mess up here, can we?"

"No, I'm positively sure we can't. That would be cruel if we did." he said, as he opened the vial containing the salamander blood for the last time. "Only a few drops left, do you think it's enough?"

"It should be, I guess. But we can always ask to have some more if it isn't."

"Neville, I already told you that we would be beheaded if we did more than whisper to each other. I'd rather give in a half-ready but usable potion than to blow us up, just for once."

"I really don't know. But we had a fairly good luck with this today."

"Ah, whatever, we're Gryffindors anyway." And with that, Seamus poured the last few drops of salamander blood in the cauldron, which almost instantly turned grass green. "You think we did it?"

"I think we did it." Neville said with unconcealed amazement. "Well, at least we didn't die."

"I think we deserve a high-five." Seamus raised his hand, and the boy next to him slapped his hand.

"We do."

* * *

 **Reviews are always appreciated and cherished, hope you enjoyed!**


	15. 15: Silencio

**A/N: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: Charms Assignment #1 – Write about someone feeling like they aren't being heard. (Extra prompts: [character] Terry Boot)**

 **The If You Dare Prompt Challenge: 900 ([action] – teasing)**

 **Enjoi!**

* * *

Three days.

It's been three days since Terry Boot was last able to let out sound. Literally.

How, you may ask. Well, quite easily. The whole thing started on a dull Saturday afternoon, when he was sitting beside Padma Patil in the Ravenclaw Common Room. The girl was writing her Potions essay, and it was understandable that she wanted to focus on it. Which would have been okay, but Terry decided that it would be the best time to persuade her into talking about their favorite Quidditch Team, the Appleby Arrows, and the recent news of the team changing their Chaser lineup. And Padma would have been glad to do just that, at any other time really. And she warned him not to speak to her, but he foolishly believed that maybe, just maybe if he kept on talking, she would turn her attention to him. Which she didn't, instead, she cast a quick _Silencio_ on the boy, who has been mute ever since.

But that was just ridiculous. Three days, and no one has bothered to cast a simple _Finite_ on him, not even the teachers. That might have been because otherwise, he was a conveniently average student, so he wasn't asked about many topics when it came to classes and such, and they were currently learning theory in both Transfiguration and Charms, so he didn't even have to cast spells with his wand. He would've been too embarrassed to just simply go and ask a teacher to remove the charm anyway, so that was out of question.

Then, just like a true Ravenclaw, he tried to master the counter-spell non-verbally, so that he wouldn't need anyone to do it for him. But it just didn't work, because he hasn't tried to cast any non-verbal spells before, and he had to realize that it would take a bit longer to make it work.

And that left his friends. Not much to his dismay, though, they mostly just found it hilarious. When he told – well, wrote – his problem to his best mate, Anthony Goldstein, he was practically crying from laughter for the brief time period of 10 minutes, and his other dorm mates found the situation just as amusing as well. But none of them actually helped, they just teased him every time they were reminded of his suffering – which was quite often, since they were his friends -, and after they got tired of him not being able to answer to them, they just found an alternative solution by conjuring a piece of parchment and a quill, so that he could communicate with them on paper.

And that has been going on for the last three days. If Terry wanted to be extremely honest, he was getting a bit sick and tired of this whole goddamn thing. He just didn't deserve this, he thought. Okay, okay, he should've listened to Padma, but come on, he wasn't even sure if his vocal chords even existed anymore. And he suspected there was already a bet going on about how longer will he be not heard. Honestly, there wasn't a thing that didn't have a bet going on about it in Hogwarts.

But that just wasn't fair. Where could he get help from, he didn't really know. He was literally on the verge of giving up. He already went up to Padma the day before and apologized, but she still refused to give his voice back. It seemed like everybody enjoyed this, except for him. But, at least now he realized he felt sorry for the people who were unwillingly in the middle of all attention at all times. Though that thought alone didn't help him much.

* * *

It was on the next day, when the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were waiting for Umbridge to walk in the DADA Classroom and start yet another boring class, when an idea came to his mind. He didn't think about people from other houses before. Surely, if anyone have gotten a clue about this thing he got in, he would be having the whole school smirking at him whenever he crossed, but it seemed like his muteness was just ad inside joke, or something like that. So, before he sat down onto his usual place, he went over to Hannah Abott, the closest to a friend he had between the badgers, and plopped down next to her. When the girl looked at him questioningly, he just quickly scribbled down a short text onto a little piece of paper, and then tossed it over to her.

 _Please cast a Finite on me. Please._ Hannah read, to which she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, then turned to Terry.

"Why?" she asked. Terry just sighed – or at least he tried to, but couldn't let out a sound. He actually found out that whenever he sneezed, it was soundless as well – and wrote something under his original message.

 _I'll tell you after class, just do it._ He passed the note again, and Hannah waved her wand, murmuring _Finite Incantatem_ under her breath while doing so.

"Thanks." Terry rasped out. He was relieved that his vocal chords didn't simply die yet from not being used, but he was faced with the fact that it did hurt to talk.

"Now, can you tell me what happened? Or…" Hannah wanted to ask something else too, but Terry quickly cut her off.

"Look, class starts in a few minutes and I still have to kick Tony's butt for being a jerk. But I said you can come and ask after lesson. It's quite a long story anyway." he answered, wincing a bit, since his throat still ached.

"Uh… Fine, see you then." she just shrugged, and waved at her friend as Terry stood up to walk over to his group of friends.

"Thanks again." He said finally, strolling towards a table with a couple of Ravenclaws sitting around it.

 _I swear to Merlin, I'll hex these gits as soon as we're out of this classroom_ , he thought.

* * *

 **Reviews are always appreciated and cherished, hope you enjoyed!**


	16. 16: Betrayed

**Enjoi!**

* * *

 _Sometimes people aren't what they seem to be._

"Hey, uhh, you're Nymphadora Tonks, right?" asked a man, who looked to be in his early 30s, from the Auror beside him.

"That's me, yeah, why?" the woman said, not looking at the person next to her. The wizarding world were in the middle of a war, she knew she couldn't trust anyone, which wasn't a particularly easy task, considering her true Hufflepuff personality. But, revealing her name could hardly hurt her, since she could change her appearance in mere seconds.

"Well, I heard you were an Order member, and I wanted to... Well, talk about some stuff regarding that." the man said in a hushed tone, so that no one would hear the conversation. Talking about such topics were strictly forbidden in the Ministry, and if somebody was found out, they ultimately had a place in Azkaban.

Tonks knew that very well, so she grabbed the man by his arm, and dragged him into the closest closet, where she knew no one was listening. She only turned to face him when she made sure they were safe with a couple of charms.

"How do you even know about the Order? And what do you want to talk about?" she hissed, pointing her wand at the man. "Speaking of which, who are you? I've never seen you in the Auror Department before." she eyed him suspiciously.

"Ah, don't worry, I'm Jonathan. Jonathan Bradford. I recently came here from overseas, so everything's pretty new around here. Sucks to get thrown into the middle of a war, right?" he said, giving a weary smile to the metamorphmagus. "And I wanted to ask if I could join the Order of the Phoenix. You know, this whole Death Eater thing is just not for me."

"Your accent seems awfully British." Tonks commented.

"My mother was born in England, but she moved away after she graduated in Hogwarts, so I was raised on the East Coast." Jonathan shrugged, then he continued after a few moments of silence. "So, what are the rules, or whatever?" the woman just sighed. How would she explain that this wasn't hoe things work around here?

"Look, it's... It's not that easy. You'd have to contact someone in a higher position than me, like Minerva McGonagall, or something. All I can do is try to persuade them into giving you a chance, but I'm not the one who manages these things." she said finally, though she wasn't quite sure if she was right about giving information into the hands of this random lad.

"Well, I guess I'll try with somebody else, but I'd appreciate it if you helped me."

"Okay, I guess."

"Thanks." the man let out a smile before walking out of the closet onto the corridor.

* * *

 _You may think they're on the good side._

"Hey, Tonks, can I talk with you?" shouted Jonathan. It was the February of 1998, and they were right after an Order meeting. The woman went up in the staircase for some papers she needed, and the man followed her there, so now it was only the two of them on the third floor.

"Uh, yeah, sure. What about?" she said, glancing at him questioningly.

"Okay, this is going to be awkward. I need a place to stay, because I just can't pay my rent for my apartment anymore, and I really don't want to stay here. You know, you're the closest friend I could find, so maybe, could you help me out?" he finished his thoughts.

"I really want to, but Johnny, I don't have a safe place to stay at either." the witch looked at him apologetically.

"I heard you were staying with your mother for the duration of your pregnancy. Maybe she wouldn't mind if I moved there for a while, too? I really wouldn't want to trouble either of you, but desperate times call for desperate measures, you know, and I'm really at a dead end here." he sighed. "Please?"

"I'll talk with Mom." she nodded finally, though she didn't know if it would be a good idea. "My father isn't home, though. He's on the run, too."

"Really?" the wizard asked, and Tonks looked at him pleadingly. She didn't want to talk about it at the moment. "I'm sorry to hear that. Hope he's going to be alright."

"Yeah, well, muggleborns have a slight disadvantage nowadays." the woman said with a worried expression.

"But, thanks in advance. I owe you one. Okay, I owe you a lot actually." Jonathan shot her a smile, then he went back down to meet the other Order members.

* * *

 _You gladly let them inside your life._

"Lovely." the wizard said as he stepped out of the Floo, with his suitcase following him in. He was standing in the living room of the house of the Tonks family, which was a little, but cozy place with a couple of lilac couches, a warm fireplace – which was behind him now -, and a couple of family photos on the tables and cabinets. The whole room had a homey feeling to it.

"It's not much, but it's home." the woman next to him remarked. "Do you want to walk around a bit, or can I show you your bedroom right now?"

"A house tour would be nice, but I think I can figure it out myself, thanks." he replied. "Oh, hey, can you tell me about your father? He seemed to be a nice guy when you mentioned him."

"Yeah, I guess I can. You can sit down on one of the sofas, or whatever. I'm making a coffee." she pointed at one of the lilac seats as she walked over to the kitchen, which was built together with the main area. "About my Dad… He is a nice guy. Though he told me they used to argue with Mom when they were in Hogwarts, because he thought she was the typical Black, despising muggles and all." she started. "True enough, she was in Slytherin, but she was always on the good side. She always said not all snakes were evil, too. Though Dad was in Hufflepuff, I suppose I might have gotten my house from him. But, he also told me that eventually they became friends, after he saw Mum crying in a corner, because she was bullied by her housemates. And eventually, they fell in love and moved here after their wedding."

"That sounds nice. Where did your father work, you know, before the war?" the man asked.

"He worked at the Department of International Magical Co-Operation, though he never quite told me what was it that he did, not even after I became an Auror. But I can imagine him here, he's very supportive, and he always told me to value equality. Hey, I'm ready with the coffee. Want some?" she offered, and the wizard took one of the cups she was holding.

"Thanks. Now, can you show me this room you were talking about earlier?"

"Sure, come this way."

* * *

 _Then they shatter you from the inside. Piece by piece._

"Who killed him?" Tonks sneered. "Who killed my father? You must have a way to recognize the wand! I have to know!" she glared at the wandmaker I front of her. She felt upset, aside from the grief that have been overshadowing her days ever since the bad news came. There was an attack on a couple of hiding wizards and goblins a few days ago, after they said the name of the Dark Lord out loud. It seemed like they either didn't know about the Taboo Curse, or thought they could deal with a couple of Death Eaters at once. Some of them escaped, but three dead bodies were found in the forest, and Ted Tonks was among the three.

"Please, Mrs. Lupin, calm down. I do know who this wand belongs to, though I'm afraid it wouldn't do your mood any good if I told you." the grey-headed wizard told her in a low voice.

"Mr. Ollivander, please! Do you think I could be in a worse state of mind than this?" she pleaded. She usually wasn't the one to be vicious, but she knew if she ever came across the murderer of her Dad, she would get revenge on them as soon as she got her hand on them.

"Very well. This wand was once Jonathan Bradford's. 11 and a half inches, yew wood, dragon heartstring, I still remember clearly when he walked in the shop almost 20 years ago." he answered, inspecting the item closely while doing so.

"Him? No, that must be a mistake. He wouldn't do that. He's not… He's not a Death Eater… Wait a minute." she suddenly stopped. He told her he was from the United States; he grew up there… But then he couldn't have gotten his wand at Ollivander's. Clearly, his family wouldn't just travel from all the way there just for a wand. And the wandmaker never made a mistake on recognizing wands. Surely, he wouldn't even know his name if he didn't buy it here. "Wasn't this wand taken from him?"

"I'm afraid not. The wand's Master is still Mr. Bradford, no one could use it as effectively as to cast a Killing Curse, except for maybe the Dark Lord himself, but I doubt he was there." the old wizard replied.

He was a liar. He betrayed her trust. Merlin knows only where he was at that moment. He might have just been getting his Dark Mark from Voldemort himself for successfully killing a muggleborn, he could even be in an entirely different country too, for all she cared. She promised herself she would find and confront him, and that showed the unusual amount of Gryffindor courage she gathered through her Auror years.

But wasn't this whole thing ironic? She was the one who helped him in the Order, she offered him a solution when he was practically homeless, and then he goes off and kills her family? She tried to find any evidence that would make it impossible, but she couldn't. It was all so fitting. He said he found a new house in the outskirts of London just the day before the attacks. He always asked her about her father, he seemed strangely intrigued about the topic. _And his accent,_ she thought. _I should have known it was too perfectly British. Not one slang word from overseas. Not a single one._

In retrospect, it was too obvious. But he played his role so perfectly, she couldn't help but believe him.

What worried her was that now he knew most of the Order members, he knew their plans, he knew too many things. It could be very costly if it got in bad hands. Tonks knew this was a life or death situation. _She had to find him_ , she thought as she apparated away in a hurry.

* * *

 **A/N: No, no continuation for this one, because I'm too lazy to do it. Sorry. But, all you dear people can make up an ending to it yourselves.**

 **Prompts used: Ultimate Battle Challenge: Write about Nymphadora Tonks, at least 400 words.**

 **The If You Dare Challenge: 448 (betrayal)**

 **The Ultimate Chocolate Frog Card Club: Write about betrayal.**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: Potions Assignment #1: Write about someone with false intentions. (extra prompt used: [word] lovely)**

 **Gringotts Prompt Bank: **

**Words Instead of Said: asked, hissed, commented, shouted, finished, continued, sighed, replied, started, offered, sneered, pleaded**

 **Plot point: character death**

 **Feelings/Emotions: suspicious, grief, upset, furious**

 **Prepositions: beside**

 **HP locations: Tonks House**


	17. 17: Unicorn Hunt

**A/N: I had no idea what to do with my prompts, so I tried to write crack. Hope it didn't turn out horribly. (Also, prepare for slightly OOC, douchebag!Luna here :D)**

 **Hopscotch: [creature] unicorn, [dialogue] "Thank you for doing this.", [word] gun**

 **Gringotts Prompt Bank:**

 **Crack Dialogues: "I don't trust unicorns or broccoli.", "The only thing I learned today is that unicorns are mean."**

 **Words Instead of said: exclaimed, murmured, grimaced, explained, retorted, grumbled.**

 **Feelings/Emotions: perplexed**

 **Enjoi!**

"Thank you for doing this." exclaimed Luna Lovegood with her usual dazed expression. "Not many people agree to help me with getting unicorn hair."

"Well, you don't hold a wand to many people's head and threaten them with hexing them into oblivion unless they agree to come with you." murmured Ron Weasley under his breath as an answer, hoping the girl didn't hear. "Oh, wait, actually, I remember Harry telling me that muggles do that too with guns, or whatever they call them, and it's supposed to be illegal. Does that mean it's outside the law in the magical world too? Could I send Luna to Azkaban for forcing me to come with her?" he wondered, then shrugged and turned to his partner.

"Hey, Luna? Do you think one can sue a person for holding them at wandpoint?" he asked.

"No, I'm pretty sure you can't." the girl replied, shaking her head a little.

"Oh, shit. Maybe next time." the redhead grimaced. "Look, are we even doing this? Or, specifically, why am I? Aren't unicorns afraid of a man's touch?"

"You're hardly a man. I think you're a bit young to that." she said in a low voice. Ron looked at her with a shocked expression, like he had seen a ghost or something.

"What?" he almost shouted at the witch.

"Oh, nothing, really. I was just thinking." she answered, back to her usual, dreamy self. "And I don't think unicorns will reject you if you're respectful with them."

"I don't trust unicorns and broccoli." the boy said warily.

"Broccoli?" the girl turned to face him, seemingly interested.

"Yeah. Have you really looked at them before? They're so unnaturally green, and they look like they'd been deformed due to extreme radiation and then they'd been filled with some deadly poison or whatever. It's frightening." Ron explained.

"That's interesting. Though, I think broccolis are just broccolis." Luna replied, then she stopped abruptly. "Look, there's one!" she pointed at something in front of her, almost squeaking in excitement.

"A broccoli?" asked the perplexed redhead.

"No, a unicorn! Look!" the girl ushered him again, so he did. There stood a very real unicorn, with all its four legs, white mane and approximately one horn. "Aren't they pretty?"

"Yeah, I guess it is." he was baffled. "What do we do with it now?"

"Well, you put it in a sleep, and we collect a handful of its hair." she explained, then looked at the boy beside her like she was waiting for him to do something. "Oh, and please don't objectify unicorns. It hurts their sense of ego."

"Yeah, okay, and… what am I going to do?" he asked finally.

"Oh, right. Here, you should make it drink this." the girl rummaged through her bag, then she pulled out a vial full of some kind of deep purple substance, and handed it to Ron. "Sleeping Draught. It should do."

"Does it even work on unicorns?" he retorted.

"Oh, now I understand why Hermione said you were lightheaded like a feather. You might really be." she wondered. "Yes, it works on any magical creature. At least that's what Hagrid told me."

Ron blinked a few times, then just pretended to ignore her words.

"Okay…" and with that, he scooted closer to the creature, and tried to be as soundless as he could. When he felt like he was close enough, he waved at the unicorn, which turned their head to face him. He raised the bottle in front of him, opened it, and straightened his arm towards the unicorn to see if they were going to accept it. The horse just turned their head up, and faced in the other direction.

"This is going to be fun." Ron grumbled. He stepped even closer, and tried to put the vial right under the unicorn's mouth, hoping they would swallow at least a bit of potion, but the creature just stepped back so that Ron wasn't in touching distance.

The boy had to think, which was a thing he wasn't particularly good at. After what seemed like hours, and might have just been hours, considering the velocity of Ron's thoughts, he picked up a leaf from the ground, conjured it into a sugar cube – he learned from Lavender that horses liked it, so he thought unicorns would be essentially the same -, and once again stepped closer to the unicorn, which eyed him suspiciously.

"Damn, just open your mouth. Please?" he tried, to which the unicorn, though reluctantly so, seemed to believe he was going to give him the sweet, so they opened their mouth. "Thank Merlin." he said, while quickly pouring down the contents of the vial on the creature's throat. The unicorn sensed that something was quite wrong, so they spitted in Ron's face and started deeper into the forest, but the potion kicked in and soon, the unicorn was lying on the ground in a deep sleep.

"I think it's your turn." the boy said skeptically, rubbing his face with his arm, trying to get the spit off.

A few minutes later, a very happy Luna and a still frustrated Ron stepped out of the Forbidden Forest, with the latter smelling like unicorn spit.

"See, it wasn't that bad, was it?" the girl asked. "And you learned how to take care of unicorns, too."

"It was bad." the boy retorted. "And the only thing learned today is that unicorns are mean."

 **Reviews are always appreciated and cherished, hope you enjoyed!**


	18. 18: Closing In

**A/N: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: Herbology Assignment #1 – Write about a character, who's in a seemingly deadly situation, but they get out unharmed. Extra prompts used: [emotion] fear**

 **The If You Dare Challenge: 515 (A Locked Door)**

 **Gringotts Prompt Bank:**

 **Feelings/Emotions: scared, frightened**

 **Prepositions: inside, outside**

 **Words instead of saw: stared at, observed, glanced**

 **Words instead of said: proposed**

 **Enjoi!**

* * *

The Room of Doors.

This is where the Golden Trio was standing with three of their friends, Ginny, Luna, and Neville, surrounded by a couple of doors, which may have looked similar from the outside, but each and every one of them hid something new behind.

"I think we need to split up. We're not going to find the room we're searching for in time." said a very troubled Hermione, glancing in the direction of the other five. "I think it's the best if we go in pairs, that way, we cover up three rooms in one, and if any of us finds the room we wanted, they can send a patronus. Okay?" she proposed, and everybody gave her a court nod, signaling they understood and agreed. "Okay, the teams will be Ron with Harry, Luna with Neville, and I'm going with Ginny. If that's okay, then go, and see you all."

Neville and Luna looked at each other for a brief moment, then they shrugged and walked closer to a nearby door. They took one last breath, then entered.

Inside, there was nothing. Or so it seemed. The room seemed to have no walls, and it seemed to be endless in length, and it might have just been endless too, since there was almost nothing magic couldn't do. The place didn't have any lights, though it wasn't completely dark. For some reason, the room was dimly lit, just like when you enter a basement with a candle in a lantern.

"It seems like nothing's here. Can we go back and cross this room out? I'm a bit scared in the dark." noted Neville, his voice shaking only a little. And just as he said so, he spun around, hoping to face the door they came in, but much to his dismay and horror, he only found the same nothingness behind him. The door was gone, and they were trapped in nowhere.

Just when he wanted to comment on the impossibility of getting out, a loud screech was heard, and he felt something starting to move. He looked around, expecting his partner to have done something that made the noise, but instead, he saw some kind of a wall in the distance, slowly approaching them. he then turned around, and was faced with the same exact sight.

The Room of Walls. That's what he named the place at that moment.

"Luna…" he started. "I think those walls are coming closer and closer, don't you?"

"Yeah, I see." came the reply from the witch. "So this room wants us to save its puzzle."

"A puzzle?" he looked at the girl beside him, looking puzzled. Oh, the irony. "What puzzle?"

"If you're in a magical room and there's seemingly no way out, then there must be something hidden. Then you must think of something of an alternative." Luna explained.

"But if we don't find the answer out, we could die! I don't want to die now!" he sounded panicked. He was afraid, and he was almost a hundred percent sure they wouldn't survive this. Though, he didn't exactly plan his death to go this way. Crushed by a wall, dying without anybody to witness it; he didn't want that to happen at all. But then what could he do? "What do we do, Luna?" he asked frantically.

"We think." the girl said, then simply sat down, crossed her legs, and stared at one of the walls. "I think it's trying to make us approach this from a different angle."

Neville let out a sigh, trying to calm himself down. He still felt frightened, but he realized he'd have to try to be rational if he wanted out.

"How much time do you think we have?" he asked from the girl, while he too observed the grayness in the distance.

"Enough to find the answer." came the answer. "You can sit down too, if you want to."

"Um, no, thanks, I'd rather stand." he said. _In case I need to run_ , he continued, though he didn't say these last words out loud. "Can you give me some advice on where to start?"

"Think outside the box." the girl answered in her dreamy voice. "If there was a way for us to get in here, then there must be a way out too. If there is something inside, then there is something outside too, and something always connects the two, at all points of time. And entrances aren't the same as exits, not always, at least. Just think about something that's not quite how we came in, but similar. Maybe you will summon the exit. Sometimes you only have to think about things to summon them."

Neville looked a bit confused. He wasn't really used to being forced to see things from a new perspective, and he wasn't sure how to start doing so.

He looked around once more, and he noticed that the walls were closing in in a dangerously fast pace. He had to think fast. But first of all, he had to clear anything else from his mind.

 _Something close to the door they came in through? Something that is just like that door, but still different?_

At that moment, a thought came into his mind, and his head shot up. It very much resembled those moments in animations, when a character realizes what the answer is, and a light bulb appears just above their head.

 _A trapdoor._

"Hey, Luna?" the boy called out to the witch, who was still sitting on the ground, looking at the walls, which were now only a few meters apart. "I think I got it."

"Yes?"

"I think what we need is a trapdoor, I just don't know where to get it from." Neville explained.

"And what's beyond the trapdoor?" the girl asked with curious eyes. The boy had to think for a moment before the most obvious answer popped in.

"A ladder, I guess?" he shrugged. "It's usually a ladder, at least. But what do we do now, if we know the answer? Do you know how to conjure a random trapdoor with ladder?"

"No, I don't. But the room does. Just focus on a trapdoor appearing. I think it would work." she replied.

Neville tried to do as he was told, though he found it kind of hard to actually concentrate on the task, because the walls were gaining speed rapidly, and he suspected they only had a minute or so before they were flattened. It seemed like the closer the walls got, the faster they got.

Though somehow, almost miraculously, a trapdoor appeared right in front of the boy's feet. His eyes widened at the sight. He couldn't believe he would get out alive.

"Luna! I did it! Hurry, we didn't have time!" he said hurriedly after he realized that they still had to somehow get down before it was too late. He opened up the trapdoor, ushered the girl in first, and then stepped in himself, possibly in the last moment, because just a moment after his head was under ground level, all light was distinguished, and he heard the wooden trapdoor crack between the walls.

When the two of them reached the bottom of the stairs, Luna quickly cast a _Lumos_ to see what lied ahead. There was a long, but very thin corridor in front of the pair, so long they couldn't see the end. But, since they didn't have any better choice than to follow the road, and walk through the corridor.

A few minutes later, they saw a dim light in the distance, so the two fastened their pace, and soon, they stepped out on an open door.

The Room of Doors.

Four pair of eyes looked at them, some worried, some relieved, some just curious.

After Neville and Luna closed the door, Hermione casted the spell which burned a visible X onto the door, then turned to the little group and exclaimed.

"Okay, maybe splitting up wasn't such a good idea."

* * *

 **Reviews are always appreciated and cherished, hope you enjoyed!**


	19. 19: Jarvey

**A/N: Yes. I really did this. Come and judge me all you want, but I feel like this has been some kind of induction into the group of real fanfiction writers :D**

 **Also, this is gonna be a totally generic "For some reason, Hermione is back in the Tom Riddle Era and she's sorted into Slytherin because other reasons" story. Just because I literally couldn't think of any better, and this is not a thing I can write without a backstory. (Also just clearing that up, because I don't want people thinking I didn't even read the books or whatnot :D)**

 **Enjoi!**

It was a particularly snowy day at Hogwarts, the water flowing in the Great Lake was frozen into ice just like the ground people walked on- A couple of kids were skating on the surface of the lake, snow was falling in little flakes, painting the landscape white, and a cold breeze was the students' cheeks slightly pink from the temperature.

The seventh year Slytherins and Gryffindors were strolling towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest, led by Silvanus Kettleburn, their professor of Care of Magical Creatures. Hermione Granger, one of the top students of the school was among them too, wearing her casual black robes with the green-silver crest with a snake on it. She had her matching scarf too, as she was freezing because of the weather.

She couldn't quite comprehend why would their professor want to hold a lesson outside in this damned weather, when they had just enough while it was spring or fall. Winter was the time for theoretical lessons, at least in her mind, and those were always inside the castle, in a conveniently heated classroom.

But actually, that wasn't her biggest problem. Her problem was not only that they were venturing into the Forbidden Forest again – which was forbidden for a reason, though Professor Kettleburn seemed to deem this little piece of information unimportant -, but that she was paired up with Abraxas Malfoy, the most insufferable and bigoted git she'd ever seen. True, the other people in his gang weren't exactly the best people either, but at least she could have a normal conversation with most of them if she really wanted to. Dolohov even called her lovely once, though she wasn't quite sure if it was genuine or not.

She knew very well that being prejudiced and conceited ran in the family for them, but she was sure if she cared just a little less about her grades, she would've hexed the boy's arse off by the time the group arrived at its destination, the outskirts of the forest. But she didn't, because that would have ruined every single one of her plans for the future. See, she was here for a reason, and she swore herself she wouldn't get distracted. So, she tried to act like a Slytherin would, and treated the boy rather cold – which was a real challenge to her, since she was used to being friendly and warm most of the time.

"As you all know, the appearance of the Jarveys resemble ferrets, the only exception is that they're much bigger in size. They are very intriguing creatures, as they are capable of talking like a human, though their wit is limited, so their speech and responses are usually bad-mannered and rude." started Professor Kettleburn. "Now, you may ask why are we outside if we can learn all of this inside. Well, I planned to have a practical lesson today, and I brought a couple of these little creatures with me, but there aren't enough of them for everybody, thus the pairs. Now, I also brought different kinds of snacks for you, and the Jarveys will gladly accept some of them, and they won't a couple of other things. Your task will be to feed them everything and make a note on their reactions to them. If you have to force down a bite on their throat, then you1ll have to do. Oh, and whoever manages to have a mildly intelligent conversation with the Jarvey gets a bonus of 10 points for their house. You can start now." and with that, the teacher conjured a couple of the animals in cages, and a bucket of various edible things beside each of them.

"Hey, Granger?" the boy, who were standing beside Hermione suddenly nudged her side with his elbow.

"What is it, Malfoy?" the girl asked in an indifferent voice.

"I take it you know that neither of us wants to work with the other, but I am not letting something as negligible as a partner retract my school work, and I am also convinced you feel the same. So, I propose a truce for the duration of this class, if that's fine by you." announced Abraxas.

"You're right on one thing. I don't want any bad grades because of a git like you. So, I accept. But only for this class." nodded the girl, while casting a quick Accio, so that the cage and the basket flew over to the pair. "Though, I simply cannot understand why do we have to do this outside, in the Forbidden Forest of all places."

"Wonderful. As for Kettleburn, it may have something to do with the warnings he gets almost every time he makes student actually work in class. You see, it never turns out good. He might think no one will turn him in if no other professor notices." the blond answered while dropping a piece of mole meat in front of the beast, to which it replied with a simple "Bampot!" shout, and proceeded to devour it. "I think we should start with the things we know this thing will eat." he motioned towards the Jarvey.

Hermione couldn't keep herself from chuckling at the sight. She always thought the Malfoys suspiciously resembled ferrets, and she couldn't help but compare the Jarvey to her housemate. _A Malfoy petting an oversized ferret_ , she thought. _A dream come true._

"Are you writing down the reactions?" the boy asked finally, after forcefully shoving down a carrot on the animal's throat. "If not, then I will gladly take over, and then you can be the one forcing this thing to eat vegetables." The Jarvey gave in and swallowed the carrot, but then quickly spat on the Slytherin boy too. Hermione was now choking back a laugh while she quickly scribbled down a few words onto the parchment which she has been holding the whole time. She could have sworn it frozen to her hand, just like the quill she held, but she had to admit, it was absolutely worth it. "Why, I do not think this is that funny."

The rest of the class went by in a similar fashion, with Malfoy trying to feed the creature with cabbage, rats, worms, and even salamander blood at some point, while the girl just laughed at his failed attempts. And the attempts that didn't fail, and whenever the Jarvey decided that the meal it got deserved only a spat, and an occasional insult, like "Dimwit!", "Manky!", or "Pillock!". Hermione had to admit she found the whole thing amusing. She was pretty sure Abraxas would never again try to be a gentleman and do the dirty work for her, but it was well worth it in her opinion.

"Nice work! You two are the only ones who managed to feed the Jarvey everything, Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy. 10-10 points to Slytherin for the both of you!" said Professor Kettleburn when he went through the students' notes at the end of the class.

When a few minutes later, the little group of seventh years were walking back to the castle, Abraxas nudged the witch's side once again, to which Hermione stole a glance at him and smirked.

"What?" she asked, clearly not trying to hide her smile.

"I hope you do know that I am not going to do anything like this, ever again, Granger." the boy noted.

"Yes, I know. Though now that you mention it, I might ask Professor Kettleburn to pair us up again." she told him with a grin, to which she only earned a dark stare in return.

 **Hopscotch: [dialogue] "Nice work!", [lesson] Care of Magical Creatures, [pairing] Abraxas Malfoy/Hermione Granger, though I didn't write it romantically.**

 **The If You Dare Challenge: 663 (frozen ground)**

 **The Ultimate Battle Challenge 2: Someplace cold, main protagonist is a female, at least 1000 words.**

 **Gringotts Prompt Bank:**

 **Weather Words: snow, ice, breeze**

 **Family/Friends Vocabulary: housemate**

 **Words instead of Good: wonderful**

 **Words Instead of Saw: glimpsed**

 **Words Instead of Said: announced, nodded, motioned, chuckled**

 **HP Locations: The Forbidden Forest**

 **Reviews are always appreciated and cherished, hope you enjoyed!**


	20. 20: Masterplan

**A/N: The prompts I'm getting are ridiculous. Nevertheless, enjoy. Oh, and I'm bending the canon a bit here (Since HP Wiki told me she was 14 when she died, I'm simply making her 16 because it's more convenient)**

 **Hopscotch: prompts: [character] Tom Riddle Jr, [dialogue] "Tomorrow is a deadly day.", [creature] unicorn**

 **Chocolate Frog Club: Beaumont Marjoribanks: In your story, somebody has taken credit for another person's work.**

 **Gringotts:**

 **Feelings/Emotions: fascinated, fuming, irritated**

* * *

The Warren girl.

She was going to be the victim.

Not only was she a mudblood, she was also a scrounger. Or at least that's how he preferred to refer to the witch.

She deserved to die, in his point of view.

The reason was pretty simple, but it was just enough for him to decide. He has been planning this attack for months now, he also had plenty of opportunities to finish off somebody else, but for some reason, none of his targets died yet, they had been only petrified, which wasn't bad, at least they were out of the way, but it also wasn't what he wanted.

He wanted to make an example by killing a muggleborn, and the fact that he hasn't succeeded yet gave him a peculiarly irritating feeling.

But then again, he couldn't really show this frustration. That would certainly ruin his carefully constructed reputation as the Golden Boy of Hogwarts – though he hated the term with burning passion -, and he did not need that to happen. It was bad enough that Professor Dumbledore suspected him, though it was true that he indeed had a reason to do so.

And thus, he was forced to sit back patiently and wait for the opportunity to present itself.

Sadly, this particular opportunity just didn't seem to come his way, and he was slowly losing temper. He wanted to finish the whole ordeal this year, and it was already June.

And if you knew Tom Riddle good enough, you would know that if he wanted to accomplish something, he would. One way or another, he would always reach the goal he set to himself.

The reason why he settled with Myrtle as the victim was, once again, pretty simple.

The sixth year Slytherins and Ravenclaws had Care of Magical Creatures class together, and they had an assignment to write on unicorns, which was an obscenely easy task according to him. It was also very intriguing, especially the uses of unicorn blood. He made a note to remember it in case he ever needed to turn to such low-down methods – though he doubted he would -, but apparently some students had difficulty with accomplishing this task.

And that's how Myrtle Warren came to him to seek help for her assignment. Though he had no actual intent on helping her out, since he couldn't care less about her kind, once again, for the sake of his reputation, he agreed to help the girl.

It would have been fine, but when the Ravenclaw got an Outstanding in her assignment, while his was worth a sad Exceeds Expectations – sad for him, as he never settled for anything less than perfect -, he raised his suspicions about the credibility of her work. He even told Silvanus Kettleburn, their professor about his issue, to which the older wizard showed him the parchment which the girl had given in.

He did not know how or when, but the girl had somehow gotten a copy of his notes, and turned in what he had written, by exchanging his writing with hers. Although he was fascinated in how she managed to do such things, he was also fuming with anger. He couldn't prove she plagiarized his assignment. That's when the idea of killing her came to him.

His plan was to corner the girl in the bathroom she usually went to cry after being bullied to her breaking point, which happened quite often, then he would call the Basilisk, and it would gladly do the dirty work for him. It was all set. And he knew he wouldn't fail this time.

 _Tomorrow is a deadly day_ , he thought as he took step after step in the direction of his dorm.

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed, reviews are always appreciated and cherished!**


	21. 21:Of Crystal Balls and Locked Trapdoors

**A/N: Warning: some swear words, nothing major though.**

 **Prompts: Hopscotch** : "Why is this broken?" (dialogue), Divination Tower (location), engine (word), apologetic (word), "Oh no, we're doomed!" (dialogue)

 **The If You Dare Challenge:** 976 (Time is on our side)

 **Gringotts:**

 **Words Instead of Said:** stated, agreed, suggested, concluded

 **Crayola Colour Prompts:** sunset orange

 **Family/Friends Vocabulary:** mate, best friend, buddy

 **Enjoi!**

* * *

"Why is this broken?" asked a very frustrated Ron Weasley, while he was staring at the floor. To be more precise, he was staring at a crystal ball, which was now laying on the sunset orange carpeted floor in million pieces.

"Because you've dropped it on the floor." pointed put his best friend, Harry Potter after a sigh. "I have serious questions about why I agreed to come with you in the first place."

"Because," started the redhead. "You're my best mate. And because you have the Invisibility Cloak, and you wouldn't let me use it alone."

"It was a rhetorical question." stated the jet black haired wizard. "But now seriously, it's just a pack of Chocolate Frogs. We could've waited until tomorrow to get them back. And now we've - or rather, you have - broken a crystal ball and your Chocolate Frogs are gone too. Sometimes I do wonder why am I your best friend." the redhead ignored his words.

"Can't we just repair this thing, anyway?" Ron pointed at the shards. "We're wizards, after all."

"No, we can't." answered Harry. "Hermione once told me that these things have a different kind of magic, and if it's broken, then it can't be just fixed." he explained. "It's sometimes useful to listen to her rants and all."

"Okay, okay." Ron circled the room while his eyes stayed fixed on the crystal. "Look, I'm sorry for dragging you all the way here. Maybe I should listen to Hermione more often." he mumbled the last sentence, though he seemed truly apologetic to Harry.

„That, you do." agreed Harry. "What do you suggest we do then? I mean, we can't really just leave this mess here."

"Or we can." Ron's eyes lit up, though Harry could barely see it in the dim light of the _Lumos_ he casted a few minutes before. "If we just quietly slip out and go down the ladder, we won't get caught, and I'm pretty sure Trelawney can deal with the broken crystal ball here."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Harry laughed. "Though I really don't want to just leave. I'd feel bad tomorrow, I'm a hundred percent about that."

"Oh, come on, buddy, you can't always be our saviour and all." the redhead rolled his eyes. "You can cheat death as many times you want, I'm not stopping you, but you should just let it go this time." he said, as he tried to unlock the trapdoor which led to the ladder down the Tower. However, whatever way he tried, it never budged. "Damn, it's locked."

"Wait, wait, can I try?" Harry offered. He said a quick _Nox_ before he pointed his wand at the door and casted an _Alohomora_ on it. But it stayed still. "Okay, that didn't work."

"Oh no, we're doomed!" the Weasley boy shook his head. "What do we do now?"

"Umm, we can try other hexes?" Harry suggested uncertainly. The engine in his mind was working with an exceptionally high speed, but he couldn't choke out any better. "Maybe? Look, time is on our side, we will find out something if it doesn't do the trick."

"Okay, let's try that." Ron nodded. The two of them then got in position, and proceeded to throw the most various curses and jinxes on the trapdoor, which lasted a good few minutes for them, but unfortunately, the door thought otherwise, and it was still locked, even though the Gryffindor boys were already sweating.

"Nope, that wasn't a good idea." concluded Harry. "What else can we do?"

"I have no idea, mate. I've never been good at coming up with plans and all that stuff. That's Hermione's speciality." the redhead shrugged. "I guess we're staying here for a while."

"Is it understandable if I don't want to sleep in the Divination Tower?" Harry scratched his head.

"Me neither, mate, me neither." came the answer.

"You two will not have to either." said a third voice from behind, to which both boys tensed, then quickly spun around, just to find a very frustrated McGonagall standing a few feet away from them. "And I hope the detention you will be doing will dissuade you from doing so."

"Shit." the redhead muttered to his friend. " _Now_ we're doomed."

"Professor, how did you find us?" asked Harry in the most innocent voice he could manage.

"Professor Trelawney came rushing into my office when she heard a crash coming from her classroom. I cannot say I'm surprised I found you here, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley." McGonagall said. "Speaking of which, would you be so kind to provide me with information about what in Merlin's name were you doing here, in the Divination Tower, in the evening, well after curfew?"

"I, uhh…" Harry started. "Ron left his umm… his cloak here, and we had to find it."

"Well, next time Mr. Weasley loses his _cloak_ , I advise you go on a search at an earlier time. Otherwise, tomorrow, after your classes, you will report to me at my office for your detention. Now, you can go down to your dorms through the back entrance."

"There's a back entrance?" blurted out Ron. "And why didn't we know about this?"

"The trapdoor is always sealed for the night, so that one cannot enter or exit after a certain point of time. But as you might know, there's an entrance for professors as well." answered McGonagall.

"Hey, at least the next time we need it, we'll know how to escape." Ron muttered to his friend while they climbed down the ladder.

"Forget about it. I'm not going with you next time." Harry retorted.

* * *

 **Reviews are always appreciated and cherished, hope you enjoyed!**


	22. 22: Mark Me

**A/N: A huge thanks and shoutout to LittleTee for betaing :)**

 **Warnings: Torture, kinda-angst, and just overall darkness.**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** Herbology Assignment #2 – Write about someone's transition to adulthood. (extra prompts: [word] sneeze)  
 **The If You Dare Challenge:** 108 (Symbolized)  
 **Ultimate Battle Challenge**

 **Gringotts** :  
Genre specific prompts/Angst: pain, wand  
HP Locations: Malfoy Manor  
Prepositions: beyond  
Words Instead of Said: warned

-

 _20th August, 1996  
Malfoy Manor _

Draco was standing just outside the door of the meeting room in his home, his mother beside him, waiting to be invited inside by the Dark Lord himself. A Death Eater meeting was being held beyond the door, and the group of black-robed wizards and witches were getting ready to introduce the newest of their members: the Malfoy scion.

The boy stood there proudly, as in his mind, getting into the group of the most elite dark wizards was more than honorary. He would fulfil the task his father had given him, when he turned fifteen, he would join the fight for a cleaner Wizarding World, _for the greater good_ , and his family would return to its glory again.

"It seemed ideal. A world without muggles, mudbloods and squibs. It would be perfect, would it not?

He considered this point in his life as the beginning of his adulthood. He wasn't the little kid he was a few years ago, no, he had changed a lot. His beliefs were now set in stone, and after receiving the Dark Mark – which would then symbolize where his loyalties lied, there would be no turning back. Not anymore. It wasn't like he needed to anyway. In his mind, he couldn't even begin to imagine anything that would go wrong.

He had not, however, intended to sneeze right before the door opened. He couldn't help it though; the Manor was freezing cold even in the summer, even though the family and the house elves have always casted a few warming charms here and there.

Draco, stay quiet." his mother warned him. Her tone wasn't scolding, but her eyes were alert. The boy suspected it was because she was too nervous for her own good.

"I didn't intend to. Sorry, Mother." he replied, fixing his eyes on the huge oak door in front of him. It was only a matter of seconds before it slowly creaked open, and a deep voice, which Draco recognized as Avery's, invited the two of them in.

Inside, a couple of hooded wizards were sitting around the long, oak-wood table. At one end of the table sat none other than Lord Voldemort himself, his reptile-like facial features were now turned into an expression of mild amusement as he inspected the young Malfoy with his red eyes.

"Ah, yes, we have special guest today, my friends." he said, while waving his hand in the direction of where Draco was standing. "This young man here will be introduced today as the newest addition to our community." a round of whispers broke out in the room as a few Death Eaters turned in the direction of the boy, while others leaned towards their nearest neighbor to share their thoughts. "Silence!" called out the Dark Lord. The room quietened quickly. "Now, Draco, why don't you have a seat?"

The blond boy did as he was told, and took the chair at the other end of the table. He had never faced Voldemort before, and now that he did, he could feel his nerves kicking in. But he knew there was no going back anymore. He was either going to be accepted as a Death Eater, or he was going to die. Speaking of which, he might still die after this whole ordeal, so he had no real choice at this point.

Now, I have another special guest for our entertainment today." Voldemort announced, as a body floated in, and hovered over the table before plopping down onto it. And he did all this with only a flick of his wand. "This is Aaron Ricketts, and he's a muggleborn wizard, who worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement until not long ago." once again, everybody stirred in the dark room, though the whispers were in more of a disgusted and indignant tone. "Silence!" the Dark Lord commanded, to which the noise died down once again. "I suppose most of you know what will occur at this meeting, but I am pleased to say that our newest addition, young Draco will have the opportunity to show his skills before. Now, Draco, I do not wish you to go unprepared, so I'll show you what your task will be beforehand. " _Crucio!_ " he hissed, and the body started to writhe in pain.

"The man's screams filled the room, and some of the cloaked people started laughing almost hysterically. The boy couldn't take his eyes off of the body, and he suddenly realized that he had never seen anyone under the Cruciatus curse. He hadn't seen the agony on their faces, hadn't heard the shrieks. And he definitely hadn't casted the spell on anybody before. *He had also come to the shocking realization that he did not want to cast it either. The suffering of this man, who was lying on the desk felt almost physically painful for him. He couldn't comprehend why anyone would find torturing entertaining.

Then another thought hit him. _He would have to do the same_. He was either gonna be the perpetrator or the victim.

He couldn't help his uneasiness. What if he couldn't cast the curse properly? His whole family would suffer, that's for sure. He would suffer, too.

Which left him with one option. He had to grow up, very quickly. He had to finalize his decision about the way he was going to live. This was it.

"Now, Draco, I want you to show us some skills. How powerful is your Cruciatus?" Voldemort turned to the boy, after a few minutes of playing with the body.

"We will see, My Lord." he answered, before pointing his own wand at the man, a bit hesitantly. He gathered up every inch of courage and spite he had, and shouted the curse as loudly as he could. " _Crucio_!"

He watched as the man twitched again and let out another yelp in agony. He tried to remain unfazed while he kept his gaze on him. He tried to concentrate as hard as he could. He couldn't fall apart here, even if it pained him to do so.

A part of his soul definitely died that day. Or, at least that's how he felt.

"So, is this what being an adult feels like?" he silently wondered.

After he thought the man had suffered enough, he lowered his wand, and looked at the Dark Lord expectantly.

"Splendid." he started. "I think all of us can agree that the boy is indeed worthy of being one of us. And that leaves us with the last stage of initiation remaining. Come over here, Draco!"  
The boy did so. He knew what was coming. He was going to get the Dark Mark.

"Let me see your arm." Voldemort commanded. After Malfoy thrust his arm forward, Voldemort once again pointed his wand at his bar forearm, and the next moment, the boy felt pain spreading through his whole body. His arm burned like it was on fire, and he felt like something was sticking needles in his limbs and stomach. He tried to stay silent while it lasted, but he couldn't help letting out a yelp, and he had to close his eyes as well.

After it was finished, the Dark Lord let out a triumphant smirk as he sent Draco back to his place.

"Wonderful. Now, I still have something to ask of you, Draco. I'm giving you a task, and I expect it to be done in a year. As all of you might now, Hogwarts is one of the only places that we haven't gained control over." he stated. "And the reason for that is none other than Albus Dumbledore. And for this very reason, Draco, I give you the honour of stopping him once and for all. Let me present how." and with that he swished his wand silently. The man, who was quietly groaning up until that moment, now fell onto the table, completely silent. Draco caught a glimpse of his lifeless eyes, how they stared into nothing. He felt more intimidated than ever. "One way or another, you will have to carry out this task through your sixth year at Hogwarts. Otherwise, if you cannot, it will have its necessary consequences." 

Draco knew what he meant by that. If the old man wasn't dead by the next summer, he would be.

He thought he had grown up when he had successfully cast the Cruciatus curse.

Oh, how wrong he had been.

It was only now, that he was a man. And quite possibly a dead one too.

 **Reviews are always appreciated and cherished, hope you enjoyed!**


	23. 23: Light in the Dark

**A/N: Just a bit of clarification. While reading this, imagine Cedric looking something like 20 as well, because that is how things work in this universe of mine. Just to make it clear.**

 **Prompts:**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** Care of Magical Creatures Assignment #2 – Write about afterlife. (extra prompt: [word] always)

 **The Hermione Writing Club** : Hermione/Cedric

 **Favourite Era Boot Camp** : Trio era #1 – Prompt #44 (strange)

 **Chocolate Frog Card Club:** (Silver) Poppy Pomfrey – Alternatively, feature the location of the Hospital Wing in your story.

 **The If You Dare Challenge** : 179 (white)

 _ **Gringotts:**_

 **Pairings:** Hermione/Cedric

 **HP Locations** : Hospital Wing

 **Words Instead of Said:** spluttered, began, sniffled

 **Verbs** : clear, look, seem, move, come, caught, miss, found, remember, mention, been, do, spend, pull, spun, notice, continue, hug, feel, kill, nod, reach

 **Adjectives:** strange, new, light, comfortable, different, complicated, puffy

 **Enjoi!**

* * *

Everything was blindingly white for a moment.

Then, Hermione's eyesight cleared, and she finally had a moment to look around.

She was at the Hospital Wing, that was for sure, though it all seemed _strange_ somehow. It was cleaner than usual, the walls were spotless, the floor was shining like it was all new, and everything stood still. Not even the curtains moved, as they usually did, thanks to the light breeze coming through the open windows.

So, this is what death looked like.

She caught a glimpse of herself in a nearby mirror, while she was strolling towards one of the beds. She noted that she wasn't wearing the clothes she had died in. Her Auror robes were missing, and now she was wearing her light blue sweater with jeans and a comfortable pair of boots. She also noticed that she looked… somewhat younger. Like she wasn't 25, as she was supposed to be, but 20 instead.

She found this particularly intriguing, so she scooped a bit closer to inspect the object. After what seemed like hours, she gave up on finding anything odd, so she sighed and plopped down onto the bedsheets.

She thought for a moment. Harry had told her his experiences in dying after the Battle of Hogwarts, though that was a few years ago. What she explicitly remembered was that he mentioned that he had been at King's Cross, and she was definitely someplace else.

 _Maybe it's different for everyone_ , she thought. _Though, I'm not sure why death chose the Hospital Wing for me. Maybe because I spent loads of time here when I was at Hogwarts._

Either way, even in death, she couldn't keep herself from striving for more information, so she made her way to the entrance, and she had just pulled down the door handle, when she heard somebody behind her.

She quickly spun around, only to face somebody she hadn't for long years.

Right in front of her stood none other than Cedric Diggory. And his hand was on her shoulder, keeping her from opening the door.

Hermione couldn't do much more than letting out a shocked yelp.

"Ever so thirsty for knowledge." Cedric noted. "You never disappoint in that. But we have a few things to talk over first."

"Cedric?" the witch spluttered. "I… I'm sorry, I didn't notice you. When did you get here? No, wait, scratch that. How did you get here?"

"That's a bit complicated, so let's just say I'm here to greet you." he exclaimed. Hermione didn't stop looking at him questioningly, so he continued. "Okay, this is going to be long. How about we sit down somewhere over there?" he gestured towards the nearest bed. The witch nodded, and the two of them walked over to take a seat.

"Right. So, you may have heard of this theory before, but people often say that when you die, you are completely alone while doing so." he began. "What you have to know is that this theory is wrong, as far as I know, at least. I can't quite grasp the concept fully, but the gist of it is that when you die, you'll always meet someone you were close to, if they had died already." he explained. "Though I have no idea how we're chosen."

"That's interesting." Hermione mused. "Harry told me his 'greeter' was Dumbledore, when he was 17."

"Harry died?" Cedric asked. "Then… Did that man kill him too? Or…?" he looked confused for a moment before shrugging. "It's been around ten years or so since I was killed, and I never saw him around here. There must have been a lot of things I missed."

"Well, in the traditional sense of the word, no, Harry isn't dead, though he had been hit with the Killing Curse. Long story short, he defeated Voldemort again," Cedric looked at her with a shocked expression. "and now he's Chief Auror in the Ministry. We all had been offered positions here. Oh, and you got an Order of Merlin, Third Class award too."

"I don't know if I should feel honoured or not, to be honest. But it doesn't make much of a difference, anyway." he noted, and Hermione nodded in agreement. "But Harry defeating You-Know-Who? How did he come back anyway?"

"That happened on the night when Pettigrew killed you. And it took us three years of open war to finish him off afterwards." her voice sounded distant as she turned her gaze to one of the windows. "At least you didn't have to see that. We were on the run for months, trying to track down the pieces of Voldemort's soul, and a lot of people died during that time. It was horrible."

"I can imagine." he answered. "But it was worth it, wasn't it?"

"I guess." she said. "You know, I missed you. Especially in fifth year, when I had to go back to studying alone. Cho was an emotional wreck that year too, and if that wasn't enough, we had the worst DADA professor ever. But yeah, you're right. It was worth it, after all. Everything's alright now."

"I missed you too, Hermione." Cedric replied. "Can I hug you?"

"Sure." answered Hermione, as she put her hands around the wizard's torso and buried her face in the crook of his neck. Suddenly, an overwhelming feeling of sadness came over her, and she felt tears prickling her eyes as she held him even tighter.

"Hermione, please, don't cry." Cedric tried to soothe her, but the sobs only got louder by the minute. "You're stronger than that, okay?"

"I-I'm not." she sniffled. "I didn't want to die, Cedric! Not like this. Not so soon. I had a whole life ahead of me, and now it's all over, because of what? A stray curse! I was stupid to agree to this mission, wasn't I? It's all so unfair!" she cried even harder.

The two of them stayed like this for a couple of minutes. Hermione's sobs quieted down from time to time, before they got louder again. Cedric just let her do it. He knew she needed to get it out, because it was not a thing one got over so simply. Death was a powerful and most of all, irreversible thing. Once you walked in its trap, you never saw the way out again, and it was hard to forgive yourself for whatever mistake you had made when you died. They would always haunt you. Cedric knew that pretty well, as his life ended when he was only 17. It had taken him years to get over it, and it still made him sad whenever he thought about how many people he left behind. But maybe, just maybe he could help Hermione. She would definitely not be alone.

After what seemed like hours, Hermione's whimpers were reduced to mere sniffles, though she didn't want to let go of him yet.

"I know." Cedric said finally. "It is unfair. But I want to help you. I'm not leaving your side until you're not better."

"Thank you." she whispered. Her eyes were still puffy from all the crying, but she forced a small smile on her face. Then, after a few moments of silence, she asked. "What are we going to do now?"

"First of all, we're getting out of this place." he stated. "Then, I'll let you decide."

Finally, when she pulled away, he stood up from the crumpled bedsheets, and extended his hand to Hermione, who gladly took it. Cedric pulled the witch towards the huge door, their fingers still intertwined. Then, he stopped abruptly, while he was reaching for the doorknob.

"Ready?" he turned to face Hermione.

"As ready as I'll every be." she answered truthfully. In the next moment, the pair stepped out of the room.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, what you have to know about this is that I broke my own heart with writing it. Now I feel like the scum of the earth. But, I hope you liked it, and I'd be more than happy if you left me a review :)**


	24. 24: Need Help

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** Charms Assignment #2 – Write about someone who feels stuck, literally or figuratively. (Extra prompt used: [character] Parvati Patil)

 **Hopscotch** : [dialogue] "I don't understand.", [character] Terry Boot

 **Favourite Era Boot Camp** _ **:**_ Prompt #12 (imagination)

 **Chocolate Frog Card Club:** (Silver) Parvati Patil – Write about Parvati Patil.

 **The If You Dare Challenge** : 365 (documentary)

 **Ultimate Battle Challenge 2:** Surprise Gift Bag – 500 words, a defined AU (High school AU)

 _ **Gringotts:**_

 **Words Instead of Said:** snapped, speculated, approved

 **Verbs:** snap, bang, think, thought, retort, point, concentrate, return, stood, threw, appear

 **Adjectives** : specific, famous

 **Nouns:** book, table, head, stalemate, assignment, seat, twin, play, door, doorknob

* * *

"Urgh, I give up!" Parvati snapped as she banged her head against the table. "This thing is hopeless, we're never going to finish it!"

"Come on, Parvati, I'm sure we can work out something." replied Terry Boot, her classmate and partner for their Media assignment. "I know you, you're the girl who never gives up."

"Maybe, but we've been thinking about this documentary for days now, and we still have no idea where to start! We're stuck, even though we haven't even started." the girl replied. "Even Ron and his pair did it last week."

"I don't think we should compare our work speed to others'." Terry noted. "Oh, hey, I kind of have an idea. What do you do when you need inspiration?"

"I dunno." Parvati shrugged. "I never really thought about that before."

"Have you played associative games before?" Terry asked.

"No, I don't think so. Why?" the girl retorted.

"Well, I just thought that maybe, just maybe, doing something like that would help us in getting out of this stalemate." he pointed out.

"I don't understand why would that be of any help." she looked at the boy sceptically.

"Do you have a better idea?" Terry shot her a questioning look.

"No, not really." Parvati sighed. "But I just don't think it would work. Maybe we could ask Padma, she's already done with the assignment as well."

"If you think she can help us, sure, I'm not stopping you." the boy nodded. Parvati then left her bedroom for a while, before returning with her twin after a few minutes. Padma then plopped down onto Parvati's bed, while the other twin returned to her seat in front of her table.

"So, do you guys have any ideas about what you want to do?" she finally asked.

"Not at all." Terry replied. "We don't know what to do with the theme we got."

"What was your theme? History?" Parvati and Terry nodded. "And you also had to appear in the video, right?"

"Yeah." Parvati confirmed.

"Okay, wait a minute." her twin said. She then left the room for a bit, and when she got back, she was carrying a book, which seemed to be a good few hundred pages long. "I was thinking that maybe you should concentrate on one specific point of time - since you don't have much time left -, rather than going through events in chronological order."

"Wait, wait, I have an idea!" Terry suddenly stood up. "Hey, Parvati, are you any good at acting?"

"I guess. Lavender and I are going to be in the next school play, anyway." she half-nodded.

"Then, how about we act out something in connection with history?" he speculated. "I have that book as well." he pointed at Padma. "It has loads of famous battles and such in it, and we could choose something from that. We just have to use our imagination."

"That's actually pretty good." Parvati approved. "I think me and Lavender can take care of the costumes. Hey, Padma, can we borrow your book for a while?"

"Sure." her twin smiled and threw the book down onto Parvati's bed. "If you have questions, you know where to find me." she said as she reached for the doorknob.

"Hey, Padma?" Terry called out. "Thanks a bunch, you're awesome."

The Indian girl let out a smile.

"Anytime." she answered as closed the door behind herself.

* * *

 **Reviews are always appreciated and cherished, hope you enjoyed!**


	25. 25: In His Dreams

**A/N: Warnings: contains mild swearing.**

 **I literally just wrote half a fic in first conditional. I don't know if I'm crazy or I should be proud of myself.**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** Arithmancy Assignment #2 – Write about something being completely one thing or another, never both (dreams and reality).

 **Youtuber Quote Challenge:** "You're looking handsome today. Go fuck yourself."

 **Level Up Challenge** : Tutorial/Stage 1/Task 3: Write about your OTP, max. 3000 words (romantic trait).

 **The If You Dare Challenge** : 268 (obnoxious behaviour)

 **Era Boot Camp Challenge** : Trio Era #3 (Prompt #19 – reflection)

 _ **Gringotts:**_

 **Pairings** : Hermione/Draco

 **Colour Prompts** : chestnut

 **Verbs:** wake, turn, care, snore, step, woke, startle, broke, spit, need

 **Adjectives** : spectacular, beautiful, happy, right, respective, obnoxious, dreadful, fierce

 **Nouns:** dream, bathroom, clock, job, morning, moment

* * *

 _Every day, he would wake up in the morning, and he would turn to face the girl beside him, who would still be lightly snoring beside him. Locks of her chestnut hair would have fallen in her face, though she wouldn't seem to care about it, at least not while she was asleep._

 _He would think about how she looked spectacular in those moments._

 _No, scratch that, she would always look beautiful to him. He could stare at her for hours, and it would still not be enough._

 _On days like these, everything would feel so peaceful. It was years after the war, but both them would still have the memories and the nightmares, but somehow, they would find comfort in each other. Whenever they'd sleep together, their demons would go away. On days like these, he'd feel like they wouldn't come back either._

 _He would crawl out of their bed, and he would step into the bathroom to get ready. He would stare at the mirror on the wall, and his reflection would tell him that it was all right. Everything was all right. And he would smile, because he knew it would be true._

 _He would smile because he'd know that his life was on the right track. He'd smile because he would know he had his dream girl, right next to him._

 _On days like those, he would feel happy._

* * *

Draco woke up with a start again. Even though he was used to having these dreams from time to time, they would still startle him.

He noticed it was still before dawn. He looked at his clock, which was ticking peacefully, like it has always done. It was barely after 3 AM, but Draco knew he couldn't go back to sleep.

If there was one thing he hated about these dreams, it would be that they weren't real. Not at all, and it didn't even matter how hard he tried. The girl still hated his guts, even though their opposition wasn't as fierce as it used to be. Occasionally, they would spit a few unsophisticated words at each other, she would comment on his obnoxious behaviour, and he would just make a remark about her dreadful looks.

Even though he would do almost anything to tell her otherwise. He didn't think she looked dreadful, not at all.

And after their innuendo, both of them would go on and live their respective everyday lives.

Draco sighed at the thought. He looked around his room after his eyes got used to the darkness. He was completely alone, only the ticking of the clock broke the deafening silence in the room. He shook his head after a moment, and picked up a few clothes before strolling towards the bathroom.

He looked in the mirror, but it only told him something like "You're looking handsome today. Go fuck yourself.", and he had to agree with it.

Some may think Draco Malfoy lived a rather happy life. He was rich, the witches were falling for him, he had a nice and easy job, what else would he need?

He knew the answer. He needed the only woman he couldn't have.

 _What a shame_ , he thought, _that those dreams would never come true.  
_


	26. 26: The Day After

**A/N: This one-shot was inspired by a fanart I've seen a few weeks ago on Facebook. If I ever find it again, I'll get a link to it.**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : Care of Magical Creatures Extra Credit - Write about someone who's lost someone very close to them.

 **Ultimate Chocolate Frog Card Club:** (Bonus) Ignatius Tuft – Write about someone mourning a family member.

 **The If You Dare Challenge** : 371 (dead)

 **The Restricted Section:** no dialogue

 _ **Gringotts:**_

 **Colour Prompts** : fluorescent orange, purple

 **Verbs:** sit, sip, set, agree slip, touch

 **Adjectives:** terrible, liquid, stray, detached, full, bright, little

 **Nouns:** glass, substance, apartment, couch

* * *

 _3rd of May, 1998_

George was sitting on the couch of his and Fred's – no, scratch that, it was only his now – apartment.

He has been doing one thing and one thing only for the last 12 hours at least. Staring at the wall in front of him. He would occasionally get up, fill his glass – which was now sitting on the little oak wood desk beside the couch – with some kind of liquid substance, more often alcoholic than not, and then he would plop back onto his seat and continue staring at the wall.

He didn't really know what he was doing, nor did he know why, and he didn't feel the need to search for a reason either.

He felt empty. Alone and empty. He took a look at his surroundings, the fluorescent orange wall, which used to give him happiness whenever he set his foot in his flat. He looked at the deep purple shaded furniture, and he smiled faintly, so faintly that it didn't quite reach his eyes, like it used to.

Fred used to say those colours looked terrible together. He was right, but he still agreed to making the apartment look like this.

The faint smile faded from George's face, when he once again realized that he would never hear his brother say those words again. He wouldn't say anything at all, for that matter. He was dead, after all.

 _Dead._

George supposed he still hadn't comprehended what it meant. In the back of his mind, he knew that his twin was gone, that he would never come back, _he could feel it_ , but the thought hadn't hit him with full force yet. Maybe some stray strand of his soul was still hoping that it wasn't true, that it was all a dream. Maybe it was the alcohol. He didn't know.

He felt like he was detached from the world. Every sensation was numbed down. The bright oranges and bright purples were now a dull shade of grey, he felt like his fingertips were barely touching the glass, and when it slipped out of his hand onto the little table, he barely heard the clattering sound.

He continued staring at the wall. He saw as a little spider crawled across it, sewing its net with complete ignorance towards the outer world. George wished he could do the same. He wished he could just live his life without caring for anything and anybody.

He didn't notice when a single teardrop rolled down on his face.

 _13th of May, 1998_

Ten days later, George was waiting for his turn to honour his dead brother with placing a flower on his tombstone.

When it was his turn, he kneeled down in front of the stone, and just stared at it for a few seconds.

Then it finally hit him.

 _His twin was gone._

Suddenly, he felt like he was choking, his eyes were clouded by the tears he tried to withhold until the occasion was over, but he simply couldn't take it anymore. He had to go.

And he did just that. He tried to place the flower on the stone as gently as he could, then he hurried away. Away from the tomb, away from the graveyard, away from the world.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! What do you think? Was it terrible? Was it not so horrendous? Reviews are always appreciated and cherished :)**


	27. 27: Why I Left

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** Arithmancy Assignment #3 – Write about someone feeling like a third wheel.

 **The Restricted Section** : No using the words 'bloody' or 'Merlin' in a fic about a Weasley

 **The If You Dare Challenge** : 189 (alone)

 _ **Gringotts:**_

 **Feelings/Emotions** : lost, alone, worried

 **Exclamations:** well

 **Compound Words** : necklace, downhill

 **Nouns:** necklace, plans, member, mission, war

 **Adjectives** : worried, better, helpful, lost, alone

* * *

Of course, he was the one in the wrong. Again.

It was always his fault, right?

He was the faulty member of the Golden Trio, the one who would never accomplish anything by himself, the one who would always need the help of another person, the one who would live in the shadow of his brother, even his sister, and his two best friends. They all would always be better than him, _right?_

" _Let's go and hunt down the horcruxes! All three of us!"_

Yeah, sure. Harry and Hermione didn't need him at all. That's what it was all about. They could figure it out without his help, anyway. After all, he wouldn't be able to contribute, not as much as they wanted him to.

Truth is, he had no clue about what they should have done. He had no plans whatsoever, but neither did the other two. And once again, the blame was on him. It was always him.

At first, he just went with whatever idea Harry or Hermione had. He thought that if he tagged along, there would be a time when he would be helpful, at least for a bit. He believed in his friends, and while he was worried about what would happen to his family, he also believed that if they succeeded in destroying the pieces of Voldemort's soul, everything would be okay. And he believed that he was needed for this mission.

But after they got the necklace, it all went downhill. He felt like he was casted out of discussions, he felt like his friends were abandoning him in favour if each other's company, and he felt like it would all be much better without him. He felt like a mild outsider.

And if that wasn't enough, they couldn't even understand him. They had no family to worry about, not in the magical world, at least. And they seemed like they could understand each other better than they ever understood him. Well, maybe that felt frustrating, but he mostly felt alone.

Then, at some point, he just couldn't bear with it anymore. They told him it was the horcrux, that he should just put the goddamn thing down, and it would be better, but he knew otherwise. It wasn't a temporary feeling, no. It wasn't because somehow the dark magic in the necklace caused him to turn against his friends, at least not entirely. He's been thinking about it for months, _for years_ , really, and he just happened to blow up on that particular day.

After all, they were in the middle of a war, with the simple goal of destroying things they had no clue about. They didn't know where to start, what to do, all the while hundreds and hundreds of people were getting killed.

And he couldn't stand that. Harry and Hermione would be better off, just the two of them. He was just a mere drawback. So he left.

His only problem was, he didn't know where to go, who to turn to. He couldn't go back to the Burrow, he most certainly couldn't show up in Hogsmeade, or anywhere else, really. Not in public.

Ronald Weasley was alone. Completely lost and alone.


	28. 28: The Lost Locket

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : Fairytales Assignment #3 – Write about twins that are not Fred and George. (Prompts used: (Characters) Molly and Lucy Weasley, (Creature) Unicorn, (Item) Spindle, (Food) Apple, (Word) vacant, (Word) Memory, (Location) Hogwarts, (Word) Storage, (Dialogue) "If only...", (Thing) Splinter)

 **Ultimate Battle Challenge 2:** Sword of Gryffindor – 700 words, someone/something is lost

 **The 'Who?' 'What?' 'How?' challenge** : Lucy Weasley, sweetener, confiscate

 _ **Gringotts:**_

 **Words Instead of Said:** claimed, inquired, questioned, confessed

 **Verbs:** took, search, find, lean, cover, explain, confiscate, is, claim, shrug, contain, roll

 **Nouns** : parchment, homework, quill, locket, eyebrow, memory, dormitory, splinter

 **Adjectives** : confused, serious, interesting, similar

* * *

"Molly, I give up. We're never going to find it." Lucy Weasley insisted. The twins were currently sitting in the Ravenclaw Common Room, with Molly leaning over a piece of parchment, seemingly deep in thought, while her sister was playing with her quill instead of focusing on their homework.

"Oh, come on, don't be such a pessimist." came the answer from the other girl. "I'm sure you just have to search at the right places."

"Thing is; I think I've covered the whole school. And there's no way in hell it would be anywhere else." Lucy explained. "Look, I've gone through every classroom, I asked people from various houses to look for my locket in their Common Rooms, I even went through the broom storages, but the only interesting thing I found was a goddamn spindle in the middle of a pile of glass splinters. What am I supposed to do with that?"

"Nothing, if it's not yours." Molly pointed out in a mildly monotonous tone. "When did you lose the locket, once again? Maybe you could backtrack your actions."

"Last week, if my memory serves me right." Lucy mused. "I'm pretty sure I still had it when we came back from London, but I only noticed that it was missing last Thursday, at Transfigurations class."

"Okay, what did you do before then?" Molly inquired. "Had you still had it on Wednesday?"

"Wait a minute." Lucy furrowed her eyebrows in concentration before her eyes widened. "Yes, I did, but…"

"But?" her sister asked.

"But I remember putting it in my cabinet in our dorm that evening. I did it before I went to sleep, and then the next morning, it was gone! I didn't even notice that the drawer was vacant!" she said. "But then somebody must have stolen it. I just don't understand why."

"We must have a jewelryphiliac in our dormitory, then." Molly claimed. Then, when she noticed the confused look on her twin's face, she let out a laugh.

"Is that even a word?" Lucy questioned.

"If only. It's probably not." Molly shrugged, her shoulders still slightly shaking from the suppressed laughter. "And if it's not, then I, the Great Molly Weasley, officially induct it into the world."

"Come on, sis'," Lucy rolled her eyes, though she also couldn't contain a smile. 'We're talking about a serious matter right now."

"Alright, alright." Molly said with a slight edge of disappointment. "So, you think somebody stole it. Do you have any ideas?"

"No, not really." the other twin confessed. "But if you have any better explanations, then I'm all ears." she said bitterly.

"I'm not saying it's a stupid idea." Molly pointed out. "I'm just saying that I couldn't really imagine anyone from our dorm doing it. It's not their style, to be honest."

"I guess you're right." Lucy sighed. "And we're back at square one."

"Hey, Lucy!" came a shout from the other end of the Common Room. The two twins grinned at each other for a brief moment before simultaneously turning to face the owner of the voice.

"Yes?" they asked in unison. It was a technique they developed through the years to confuse anybody who wanted to talk with the two of them. They looked too similar, and more often than not, the poor sod who wanted to talk to them would have had to just give up on figuring out which twin was which. Even their Uncle George told them that their acting was revolutionary.

There were only two people on the face of the Earth, who could see through them. Unfortunately, one of mentioned people was the one who called after them from the entrance of the Ravenclaw Common Room.

Lorcan Scamander rolled his eyes when he sighted Lucy and Molly, then he quickly paced towards the desk.

"Oh, damn." Molly exclaimed. "You're no fun to play with, Lor."

"Well, me and Lysander can't play with you two either, so I guess we're even." the boy grinned. "Mind if I sit here?"

"Nope." Lucy answered, motioning in the direction of the free chair next to herself. "But, just so you know, you're definitely not eating that in our presence." she pointed her index finger at the apple, which Lorcan was holding in his palm.

"But this is my breakfast!" the boy defended.

"Maybe, but I'm going to confiscate it if you don't put it away." Lucy exclaimed.

"Okay, just a bite." Lorcan said, then, true to his intentions, took a bite from the apple. "Well, this has lots of sweetener in it, it seems."

"I don't think they use sweetener for apples." Molly pointed out.

"Maybe they did with this one." the boy shrugged, then he threw the apple in the nearest trash can before taking a seat beside the table as well. "So, I heard that you have a problem, Lucy."

"Um, yeah, I kind of do. Why?" came the answer.

"Well, James showed me an interesting place a few days ago." he started. "Have you heard of the Room of Requirement?"

"No, not really." Molly answered.

"He also told me that in this Room of Requirement, you can find anything you want, and you just have to ask for it." he noted. "And that he once found a unicorn in it, when he needed unicorn hair for Potions class." Lorcan furrowed his eyebrows. "But that's not important. What _is_ important is that you might find some help there."

Lucy suddenly perked up. "And where do we find this room?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" the boy winked, and the twins awarded him with a skeptical facial expression. "Okay, okay, I'll show you. Come with me." he stood up abruptly and strolled towards the entrance. Molly then turned to her sister before she followed the boy as well.

"Scamander ex machina much?"

"Yeah. But I'm not complaining." Lucy answered.


	29. 29: Why Worry?

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : Astronomy Assignment #3 – Write about either one of the Wizarding Wars. (first Wizarding War, character used: Sirius Black)

 **Headcanon Boot Camp Challenge** : 49. geez

 **Hopscotch** : "I think I'm bleeding."

 **The Restricted Section** : No using the word 'said'.

 **The If You Dare Challenge:** 490 (London)

 _ **Gringotts:**_

 **Prepositions** : after, but

 **Verbs** : tumble, slump, worry, identify, mutter, glow, kneel, finish, collapse

 **Adjectives** : deep, abandoned, stable, faint, grim, dangerous, reckless, few, conscious

 **Nouns** : existence, companion, partner

 **Compound Words** : something

* * *

It was deep into the night in the outskirts of Godric's Hollow, and no one noticed when two men suddenly popped into existence on one of the abandoned streets. One of the stood stable on his feet, while the other merely tumbled with his arm thrown around his companion's shoulder. That was, until the latter couldn't walk anymore, so he practically collapsed on the middle of the little alleyway.

"Padfoot, come on, we need to get into safety!" the man with the light brown hair exclaimed.

"I think I'm bleeding," the other noted half-consciously. Then, he gently placed his hand on his side, before continuing. "Yeah, I'm definitely bleeding."

"Damn it." the man kneeled beside his friend and took out his wand. "What hit you?"

"I have no idea," the black-haired man answered truthfully. "But at least it wasn't the Killing Curse," he threw a faint smile at his partner before slumping back on the cold, stony pavement. "Look, Moony, just give me a few moments and I'll be good as new, okay?"

"No, you won't," the man named Moony insisted. "First of all, let me run some checks. You can't just run around while bleeding to death as if nothing happened."

The other one just sighed in defeat. "Okay, fine. But I really am okay, you don't need to worry."

"Why yes, yes I do. You're my best mate." after that, for a brief period of time, neither of them said anything, though the kneeling man's wand glowed with a faint blue light while he muttered some incantations. After he finished, he turned to face his friend with a rather grim expression. "I couldn't identify the curse, so it must have been something dark. You know, I should take you to St. Mungo's before anything else."

"No," the black-haired man exhaled. "We can't."

"Yes, we can and yes, we will. I don't want you to die here."

"I won't, don't worry about it. But first of all, we need to go and warn James and Lily, that's why we're here, in Godric's Hollow." he shot. "After we've done it, you can drag me back to London all you want, but I'm not going anywhere until we've finished."

"Sirius," the man's face turned serious. "I know what you mean. But I have to do something about your side. You've been cursed with Merlin knows what, you're losing a copious amount of blood right now as we speak, and you're on the verge of losing consciousness. This is more dangerous than I think you perceive."

"Geez, Remus, we're in a war," Sirius exclaimed. "And the life of ours friends and my godson is in danger, consequently, no rest for me until the whole thing is settled. Dumbledore told us to come here, and we did, and a petty Death Eater attack won't keep me from ensuring their safety."

For a few moments, Remus stayed silent, then he let out an exasperated sigh before running hand through his hair while he answered.

"It doesn't matter if we're in a war or not," he commented. "But I'm not going to argue with you anymore because you wouldn't listen to me anyway, and we could already back at London if we weren't so obstinate. Look, we can go see Lily and James right now if you want," Upon hearing that, Sirius tried to fight himself up into a sitting position, but he failed miserably when an unbearable pain shot into his side. "Don't even try that, chances are you're just making it worse. Listen, I'll cast a Disillusionment charm on both of us and then I'll levitate you to their cottage, okay?"

"I guess I can live with that," the black-haired man grinned.

"I can only hope you will," Remus rolled his eyes. "Just promise me one thing. After this, you're not doing any unnecessary and reckless things until you haven't recovered fully."

"I would, but you know I wouldn't keep to it anyway."

The light-haired man looked at his friend sceptically before concluding. "Yeah, I know. Now, you try to stay conscious until we get to safety," he ordered as he waved his wand once again. A moment later, both men turned invisible.


	30. 30: The Fall of an Athlete

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : Charms Assignment #3 – Write about someone who's cheating. (extra prompt used: (character) Marlene McKinnon)

 _ **Gringotts:**_

 **Prepositions** : among, along, below, concerning

 **Homophones** : you, you're

 **Exclamations:** thank you

 **Verbs** : disclose, reveal, revoke, doubt, earn, react, prove, promise, cheat, present

 **Nouns** : interview, license, competition, achievement, medal, cheater, offense, risk, burden, disaster, accident, opportunity

Adjectives: exclusive, positive, private, personal, beneficial

* * *

 _ **The Guardian US**_

 _ **World famous athlete caught cheating?**_

 _Written by Rita Skeeter_

 _Recently, the WAA (World Anti-doping Agency) disclosed some of the doping test results concerning this year's Pan American Games, which were held in this July, in Toronto, Canada._

 _Along with other interesting revelations, it was also revealed that the winner of the men's High Jump competition, Sirius Black's test also came back positive, which caused great havoc among his supporters and fans. Ever since, our reporters have been trying to reach Black himself and his manager, Marlene McKinnon, but it is only now that Miss McKinnon agreed to an exclusive interview with us. Below, you can find extracts from our private talk._

 _Rita Skeeter: So, as we all know, after yesterday's news, Sirius' sporting license has been revoked, and now people are doubting the credibility of his older achievements, such as the bronze medal he earned on the latest Olympic Games. What are your thoughts on the matter? Is it possible that Mr Black had always been using drugs and such?_

 _Marlene McKinnon: Well, I think that it was only predictable that people would react this way. After all, once a cheater, always a cheater, right? But, even though I can't prove it with my own two hands, I would like to assume that this was his first and last offense on this matter. Yes, sometimes he does take rules rather lightly and he does seem to take unnecessary risks at other times, but believe me when I say this, I would have known if he had done it before._

 _R. S.: That brings us to another question, then. Why would Mr Black recourse to something so drastic if it wasn't needed in the past? Do you think it might have been something that recently happened in his life?_

 _M. M.: Even if I did think it was something personal, I would rather not disclose it to the public. Sirius has his own problems now, and it wouldn't be beneficial if I put other burdens on his shoulders. He hasn't told me why did he do what he did, but when he'll be ready to talk about it in public, he will do so, that much I can promise you._

 _R. S.: So you wouldn't rule out the possibility of a personal disaster?_

 _M. M.: I wouldn't, but as I said, it could have been an accident as well. I'm sure you've heard of stories of that kind._

 _R. S.: Indeed, we all have. So, while it is uncertain why Sirius Black would cheat on such a major sporting event, it is sure that he won't be back on the track after this incident. Miss McKinnon, can you tell me about your and Mr Black's plans for the future?_

 _M. M.: To be honest, we haven't talked about it yet. As for myself, I'll have to look for someone else to promote, but for him, his future career is much more complicated. He once told me that after his retirement, he would like to be a coach of some kind, or a professional sports commentator, but such an opportunity is yet to present itself. You could say, we're waiting for a miracle to happen._

 _R. S.: I'm wishing you and Mr Black the best. Now, it seems we're out of time for now, so, thank you for this interview, Miss McKinnon._

 _M. M.: You're welcome._


	31. 31: Daily Struggles of a Quidditch Cptn

**Hopscotch** : James Sirius Potter (Character), bed (word), eating an apple (action), tomorrow (word)

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : Myths and Legends Assignment #3 – Task 1 – Write about a leader.

 _ **Gringotts:**_

 **Words Instead of Ran** : sprinted, scurried

 **Words Instead of Saw** : spotted

 **Compound Words** : breakfast, oatmeal, tryouts,

 **Exclamations** : hello

 **Verbs** : change, eat, fly, grab, comment, occur, graduate, discuss, interrupt, figure, scurry, arrive

 **Adjectives** : first, usual, proper, surprised, unfair, hectic

 **Nouns** : Saturday, November, season, breakfast, hallway, hour, uniform, rival, lap, training

* * *

On days before important Quidditch matches, James' life has always been hectic. Especially so, if said match was against Slytherin, like this time.

It was the first Saturday of November, a day before the lions played the season opener game against the serpents, and James, the Captain and Keeper of the Gryffindor team, was already eating his usual breakfast in the Great Hall, even though it wasn't even 8 o'clock yet.

Last night, he ordered the whole team to be on the Quidditch Pitch strictly at 8 AM after he had realized that they hadn't had a single practice ever since the team tryouts occurred, which was in late September. And that meant they were completely out of form. Or rather, they had never been in form.

Just to make matters worse, there were quite a few newbies this year, since almost half of the team graduated last June, leaving James, as a sixth-year, the oldest remaining member of the team that had won the Quidditch Cup two times in a row.

Luckily, it seemed like the new members also had a vein for Quidditch, however, that alone simply couldn't make up for the training that the Slytherins' had probably had. So, even if the group didn't need much of a training to enhance their skills, the lions were still in the need of talking about tactics and such. You can't win a game without making a proper plan, after all.

And so, after he hastily finished his apple and his bowl of oatmeal, James quickly bid his goodbyes to his friends – who were still eating eggs and bacon in the state of half-comatose – and sprinted down the hallways with his broom by his side.

It was an unspoken rule between Quidditch teams that the Captain was always the first one on the Pitch. If the practice started at 8 o'clock, then the Captain must have been on the field by 7.45. Fortunately for James, he arrived just in time to get changed, though he was surprised to see that the 3 new kids on the team were already in the Changing Room in the uniforms, discussing something rather animatedly. James couldn't help but smile when he looked at their faces, which were bright with interest.

"Hello everyone," he greeted the little group, to which all three Gryffindors spun around to see who had interrupted them. "Fancy seeing you here at such an early hour."

"You told us to come here," pointed out Mark Mullen, a third-year Beater. "So we did."

"Good thing you did, because we have loads of stuff to cover today," James exclaimed. "Oh, and I'm sorry for not having any practices up until now. You know, this is my first year as a Captain and I'm still trying to figure out how things work here."

"It's okay," Jeanne O'Connor – another third-year – shrugged. "Though, to be honest, I've been itching to play."

"Same," nodded Mark and Helen Russon, the new Seeker of the team.

"Nice," James replied. "So, how about we grab our brooms and fly a few warm-up laps before the others arrive?"

The others instantly rose to their feet and scurried out of the Changing Room, right onto the Pitch. To their biggest surprise, it was not only the other half of the Gryffindor team that waited for them, but also a group of Slytherins, dressed in their Quidditch robes.

James couldn't help letting out a barely audible sigh when he spotted the scene. Of course, Professor Slughorn would let his house's team train on the day before their match. And of course, they would take advantage of it, since they were playing against their rivals. James' father, Harry had once told him that the exact same thing once happened to him when he was at Hogwarts and it didn't end well.

However, thanks to his dad's stories, James already had a plan. He strolled towards Mike Bletchley, the Captain of the snakes rather confidently, and never stopped until he was right in front of the bloke.

"Bletchley," he nodded.

"Potter," Mike retorted. "So, I see you lot want to practice here as well. Such a shame, because the place is already ours for the day."

"So it is," James noted. "However, I have an even better idea."

"I'm all ears," the Slytherin commented.

"Look," the Gryffindor started. "I don't want to have an unnecessary fight with you guys over the Pitch, because that's just stupid. So, how about this: One team uses one side of the field, one team the other. Well?"

"My problem is," Mike exclaimed. "That you can simply go and watch our training from the other side of the Pitch, and it would be rather unfair if you knew our tactics, wouldn't it?"

"The same goes for you, man," James commented. "Though, I think it's much easier if we hold our tactical meetings in the Changing Room instead. And so, none of us will get hold of the other team's tactics, right?" For a few moments, Mike seemed to be measuring the pros and cons of the idea before nodding in approval.

"Fine," he said. "Have a good practice."

"You too," James nodded, then he turned to face remainder of the team. "Guys, why are you all standing here like a stick? We have a match tomorrow, and at this pace, you won't even see your bed today!"


	32. 32: My Sister's a Goner

**Disclaimer (which also goes for every single chapter up until now): The HP Universe belongs to J. K. Rowling and I make no profit of writing these fanfics.**

 **Warnings: character death, bit of angst**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : Divination Assignment #3 – Task 1/White Cat – Write about a death.

 **Fill the Calendar challenge** : October 14 – Write about the Greengrasses.

 _ **Gringotts:**_

 **Words Instead of Said** : chimed in, cried, stuttered

 **Homographs** : fast, battle, ground

 **Homophones** : die, family, hall, its, know, in

 **Family/Friends Vocabulary** : sister, sibling

 **Colour Prompts** : green

 **Prepositions** : across

 **Verbs** : try, protect, die, let, keep, remain, emerge, stand, address, attack, glance, contort, shake, expect, stutter, adjust, scoop

 **Adjectives** : horrified, lifeless, shocked, lazy, loyal, green, glassy

 **Nouns** : remnant, expression, body, direction, floor, zero, danger

* * *

She tried to protect her, she really did. She had sworn to herself that if one of them had to die, it would be herself instead of her sister. She had promised herself that she would never let her sister down.

When the Battle of Hogwarts had begun, the two of them were escorted back to the dungeons with the rest of the Slytherins, though if they had had a choice, they would have stayed there. They went back to the dungeons because if they remained in the Great Hall, they wouldn't have been safe. For Daphne, the most important thing was to keep her little sister safe, even if the price was her own life, while Astoria needed someone who helped her through the battle.

Over the years, the two of them had grown indifferent about the whole 'Light Side vs. Dark Side' spiel along with their parents' blood supremacist beliefs. They just wanted it to be over and done with.

And so, for the better part of the battle, the two sisters were safely tucked in one of the Slytherin dormitories. It was only during the ceasefire when they had finally dared to move. The two of them slowly emerged from the basement. Soon, their faces contorted into horrified expressions upon seeing the remnants of the hallways and the bleeding or lifeless bodies sprawled around.

"Daphne… What happened here?" Astoria turned to face her older sister, her voice shaking slightly.

"I don't really want to know," came the answer from a shell-shocked Daphne.

"Maybe we should get back," the younger girl advised while she turned back in the direction of the stairs that led down to the dungeons. She didn't even notice the man standing from across the two of them, wand raised. All she knew was that in the next moment, she landed sideways on the floor, with her sister on top of her, panting. "What was that for?"

Daphne didn't answer her, instead, she quickly pulled herself up from the floor, searching for her wand while doing so.

"I thought this was a ceasefire?" she addressed the man standing from across her. "Or do rules mean nothing to all you Death Eaters?"

"You should know by now that we never play by the rules," the man answered with a wicked grin. "And don't talk about it like you're not the daughter of one."

"Yes, okay, my father is a Death Eater. And?" she retorted. "That gives you no right to attack us, we never fought against you."

"But you never fought _for_ us either," the man explained. "You see, the Dark Lord expects you two to be loyal to him, just like your whole family is, and you may also know that not playing by his rules has its own consequences."

"I highly doubt you could do any bad for us at this point," Daphne insisted.

"Daphne, I think we should just go," Astoria chimed in quietly.

"It's okay, sis'," her sister answered. "I won't let him hurt you."

"You should listen to your sibling, little girl," the man smirked. "We'll settle this between the two of us."

"But…" Astoria tried to reason, but Daphne cut in.

"Trust me on this one, okay?" she reassured her younger sibling with a small smile.

"But I don't want you to die," Astoria murmured, though no one heard her words apart from herself.

"So, where were we?" Daphne faced the man again with newfound firmness.

"The funny thing is," the man continued, his hand twirling around his wand nonchalantly. "You probably know what's coming. I haven't seen anybody who was this willing to die for their beliefs. Well, I don't see why should I waste more time on you." and with a lazy wave of his hand, a bright green jet of light shot from his wand. The Greengrass girl didn't even have a moment to adjust herself before the curse hit her and, with a loud thud, her body landed on the floor, while her wand reached the ground with a clattering sound.

"No!" Astoria cried. She sprang to her feet and rushed over to Daphne, not even paying attention to the man in front of her, who could barely keep back his laughter. She scooped her sister up and tried to search for any vital signs, but then her eyes locked on her sister's.

She saw no emotion in them. Daphne's eyes were lifeless and glassy like a polished crystal, looking at the abyss adamantly. Astoria then had to realize that she was not going to bring her back, and she was ultimately reminded that she was still in danger. She gazed at the man, tears dwelling in her eyes.

"Please…" she stuttered. "Please, let me take her body away." the man faced her with an amused expression upon hearing that.

"I give you 10 seconds," he stated. "I don't care if you drag the body with you, but I won't spare you if you're in this hall after the countdown reaches zero. Ten."

Astoria's eyes widened in shock. Ten seconds? That wasn't enough for her to pick Daphne up. She was either going to be selfish or dead.

After taking a quick breath, she picked up her sister's wand from the floor, and sprinted down the corridor as fast as she could. However, right before she turned the corner, she glanced back at her deceased sister once again and whispered in a barely audible tone.

"I'm so sorry, sis'."


	33. 33: Call of the Deep

**Warnings: mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts, depressive themes. Angst at its deepest.**

 **A/N: I've literally been itching to write angst again (well, Draco angst, to be more specific. I love that crap), so, yeah. the inspiration for this is the very first Dramione I've ever read, almost 3 years ago. Also, this can be taken as a companion piece/follow-up to one of my previous works, titled** _ **Cold and Empty**_ **. Enjoy ;)**

 **Raise a Witch or Wizard Challenge** : Write an angsty story that has a hopeful ending, but not necessarily a happy one.

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** Herbology Assignment #4 - Write about someone coming close to breaking point, or snapping, when they feel like they've been ignored for too long on a particular point, or they feel like their voice just isn't being heard. (extra prompt: (word) teeth, (word) war)

 **The If You Dare Challenge** : 579 (moon)

* * *

One might have said the scenery looked particularly astonishing that night.

The sky was dark blue, with no clouds tainting the abyss. It was only the moon that gave light to the Earth, making the lake shine with droplets of moonlight. The cliff that was hanging over the water had also gotten from the feast that was the extraordinarily bright light, making the haulms of the sparkle in an exceptional shade of silver.

It was the wind what made the idyllic picture move, making the waves of water lop, and the grass wave, its threads much like little hour hands. It was cold and it was piercing, stinging one's skin like the teeth of a shark.

But all of that mattered not for the man standing on the ledge of the cliff.

He was staring at the sky, completely unfazed by the wind that was making his eyes wet with tears. He thought it was for the better anyway, at least then, he could explain why was he crying in the first place.

But, the more he thought of it, the less tears could bother him.

No one ever said that if you decided to quit, you then must do it with style, even if it was about quitting your own life.

It was a bit ironic, if he really thought about it. When he had been younger, it was him, who never listened to anyone's pleads. It was him, who always ignored if anyone needed help, and it was him, who somehow always came out on the winning end.

Karma was a bitch indeed.

He thought of it a lot, but he could never really solidify the point when his depression started. Maybe it was the death of his mother, but he suspected it had started long before, probably when the war had ended. The date back then marked the starting point of his isolation.

And it's not that he didn't want anybody to hear him out. Whenever it had crossed his mind, his loneliness had always become suffocating, and in those moments, he just wanted somebody to help him stand up again. But aside from his bottles of leftover firewhiskey, he had no companions along the read.

It made much too easy to spiral down into depression for him.

And it was only the day before that he had decided that it just wasn't worth it.

He had left a note on his own kitchen counter before he left the little apartment, but he left only eight words behind. No one would read it anyway, he did it only for the sentiment. Maybe, if someone did find it, they would at least know how it all ended. He had a sick fantasy, that maybe, if somebody found him the next morning, at least they would realize what had happened to him. What a shame he wouldn't see that happen anyway.

 _If you're reading this, it's already too late_ , the note said.

And so, here he stood, facing the night sky, smoking what he supposed would be his last cigarette. He didn't do it to calm himself, that wasn't the problem. Not because he needed any kind of nicotine, since he couldn't have felt it anyway. Somehow, the whole prospect of ending it all made him go completely numb. It must have been the by-product of giving up completely.

Because if he thought about it, he could conclude that if nobody was listening to him, then it wasn't worth trying anymore either.

And so, he quietly shuffled towards the edge after he had thrown away the stub.

He never expected anything to disturb him in what he supposed would be his last moments, but it seemed like Fate was playing a really cruel game with him, since just as he readied himself to take one last breath, he felt a piece of parchment materialise in his right palm.

For a moment, he looked completely and utterly confused. He had no idea who or what could have sent a note to him.

He didn't plan it to be that way, but he opened the paper, where he found four words, written with clear and neat letters.

 _Don't give up yet._

The handwriting seemed somehow familiar to him, but he couldn't quite place it. It just seemed so out of place, but somehow, it snapped something back inside him.

The next he knew though, was that he was kneeling on the grass, tears strolling down his cheeks uncontrollably. And it was only then, that he realized something.

He had been so stupid. He just couldn't throw it all away. Not yet. He had always been a coward, chickening out again seemed perfectly reasonable this time too.

He didn't know where life would lead him. He did know, however, that he would fine the person with the note.


	34. 34: Of Chocolate Frogs and Spaghetti

**A/N: When I thought this one up, I was instantly reminded of one of my earlier works, Of Crystal Balls and Locked Trapdoors. So, from now on, I'll just call this the 'How to Get in Trouble a la Golden Trio' miniseries. Enjoy.**

 **Hopscotch:** Headmaster's office (location), rabbit (Creature), parchment (word), pasta (word), tickle (action)

 **February Event:** (quote) "Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that." (Martin Luther King Jr) + (object) a Box of Chocolates

* * *

"So, what are we searching for exactly?" Harry asked of his best friend, as they quietly slipped into the Headmaster's Office under Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

"A whole stack of Chocolate Frog cards, obviously," Ron answered. "George told me Dumbledore is a huge Chocolate Frog fanatic, so we would surely see some around here."

"Mate, I have a bad feeling about this," Harry noted. "Remember when we broke that crystal ball in the Divination Tower? I don't want that to happen again."

"Nah, we're not getting caught this time," Ron added. "It can't be that hard to find those Cards anyway."

"I hope so," Harry continued. "So, where do we start?"

"On his desk, obviously," Ron said. "There must be a few between his gadgets."

And so, the two thirds of the Golden Trio quickly scurried over to the huge wooden desk at the far end of the room, their muffled steps echoing loudly in the abandoned office.

After the had approached the place carefully, Ron started rummaging through the contents of the desk, with Harry – though reluctantly so – lent him a helping hand. It was about half a minute later, when Ron straightened up, holding a piece of parchment in his hand, taken from the top of something that suspiciously resembled a box of chocolate.

"Oi, mate, who sent Dumbledore chocolate?" he furrowed his eyebrows before showing the paper to Harry. There was only one line written on the note, which said "Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."

"I dunno," Harry shrugged. "But I can imagine this as something Dumbledore would say at the opening Feast."

"Yeah, same," Ron nodded, setting the parchment back on the table. Then, his eyes settled on something at the other end of the table, which, if it was even possible at that point, made him even more confused. "Hey, Harry? Why does Dumbledore have spaghetti on his desk?"

"I guess he wanted to eat pasta for dinner, don't fret over it," Harry guessed. "Look, I don't think it's here. Can't we just go?"

"No, I think we still have time," Ron dabbed. "Maybe in that cabinet," he pointed at a chiffonier near the entrance, then, without any warning, he grabbed his friend's forearm and dragged him away from the table.

"Look, I haven't found anything, besides this top hat with the bunny in it," Harry exclaimed a few minutes later, after they opened every drawer they found. "And I have no idea why would anyone want a top hat with a rabbit, but I'm sure that if the Chocolate Frog Cards aren't here, they won't be anywhere in this room."

Ron sighed miserably. "I guess you're right. Sorry for dragging you here, I guess."

"It's okay, mate," Harry answered. "Let's get out of here before somebody notices us and we get another month of detention."

Ron simply nodded and followed his best friend to the entrance with slumped shoulders. It seemed like their quest was a complete and utter waste of time, but then, of course, something else just had to go wrong. And Ron realized this when Harry burst out laughing when he stepped in front of the entrance door.

"R-Ron… Are you tickling me?" He asked, clutching his side.

"No," Ron unsurely answered. "I have no idea who could be tickling you."

"Then… It must be the…" harry panted between fits of laugh. "The door…"

"You mean it was jinxed?" Ron inquired.

"Y-Yeah…" his friend nodded.

"Damn," was all Ron could say. "Mate, I think we messed it up again."

And oh, how right he was.


	35. 35: To Be Walked Over

**Word count: 528**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** Herbology Assignment #5 - Write about someone feeling constricted by people or situations around them (extra prompt: (word) struggle)

 **Chocolate Frog Card Club** : (Silver) Neville Longbottom – Write about Neville.

* * *

Life had always been a struggle for Neville Longbottom; everybody knew that much.

In some sense of the word, he had always admired Harry, because even though their situation was much the same, the Boy Who Loved always seemed to come out on top, while Neville was just kind of there, like a doormat, ready for everybody to step on.

He had been held back for the better part of his early life, and it was thanks to most of the people he had encountered.

It had probably started with his grandmother, and while he loved her dearly, as the only one who had ever looked after him, in some way or another, she had always posed impossible challenges to him, and she had always told him exactly what to do.

He never told her, but in those moments, he had always felt like he was suffocating, like he couldn't act on his own accord, like she was wounding his freedom, like she held him back. But he would never have told her that, because he wanted to see her happy. After all, what had happened to his parents had taken its toll on both of them.

And then, he had gotten his father's wand. The worst thing about it was that the wand was not the perfect match, and so, he couldn't use his magic in its full potential. And once again, he couldn't do as much as he wished, because somebody told him he would be fine with whatever was left for him.

Then there were the bullies in Hogwarts. They had always told him he was useless and clumsy, and that his parents had deserved what they had gotten all those years ago. He had tried to just ignore their words, but they had still scarred him emotionally; they had put another strap between the jungle of ropes which held him from becoming the man who he had wanted to be.

And then there were his housemates. He appreciated their friendship and their help, but he knew that he was still underachieving. And once again, he felt like everything that they earned, and he did not, was holding him back.

Truth be told, he had always felt like every expectation somebody placed on him was just making him fall farther and farther from his goals.

They had wanted him to become an Auror, but he wanted to become a Herbologist. That alone was something he couldn't deal with. Because if there was nobody, who would urge him to continue on a road he wanted to take, then why would he choose that road?

And it all felt like he was in a dark room, with the light of freedom shining in front of him. The light, which he could not reach, because he was tied to a solid wall with the ropes of expectations, with the ropes of insults, and with the ropes of his own hopelessness. And no matter how hard he struggled, the ropes just seemed to get tighter and tighter, making him hard to breathe, making him stranded.

And worst of it all, there was nobody who heard his cries for help.


	36. 36:There Might Be Something Outside Your

**A/N: I guess we've come to this. Warnings: blood, torture, and such things.**

 **Word count: 1025**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : Myths and Legends Assignment #5 – The Man Upstairs – Write about someone babysitting and getting more and more paranoid that someone else is in the house.

 **Chocolate Frog Card Club:** (Bronze) Vincent Duc de Trefle-Picques – Write gory horror. (not sure how gory is it, but I guess this'll have to do)

 **Ultimate Hermione Pairing Club** : Hermione/Stewart Ackerley

* * *

Hermione had always loved looking after children. True, she had her own as well, and dealing with Rose and Hugo on a daily basis was often a nightmare, but it seemed like her friends' babies were much more calm and collected than her own.

And that was how she ended up in the Lovegood-Scamander household on a completely ordinary Friday. Or, at least she thought it would be.

It had all started out rather well, the twins, Lorcan and Lysander were fairly quiet while playing with their plush dragons, all the while Hermione could read her Advanced Arithmancy textbook without interruptions after they had all had dinner.

It was all so idyllic that no one noticed the man in the shadow of the room, wearing a wicked grin.

oOo

It was later in the evening, and Hermione had been reading a particularly interesting passage about the connection between numbers 7 and 13, when she heard a screeching sound, coming from the direction of the window. She abruptly turned to face the place, but apart from the creaked open window, she found nothing strange. Though, the opened window in itself was a bit creepy, as she was sure she had left it closed when the twins went to bed, earlier in the evening.

But it was not enough to creep her out completely, so she quickly locked the window with a swift swish of her wand, and went back to her book.

And she didn't see the man, whose eyebrows furrowed slightly under his cloak.

oOo

A loud clattering noise interrupted Hermione's peace, coming from the kitchen. She raised her eyebrows, then with a sigh, plopped the book on the couch, and left the living room to see what happened.

Out there, she saw an opened cupboard, and a dozen coffee cups, broken into million pieces on the ground. With raising suspicion, she raised her wand, casted a few quick charms to see if somebody had charmed the cabinet to open, but she found nothing.

She was sure that she had left the cupboard closed as well.

It was only then, that a feeling started creeping up on her, making her shiver.

 _Maybe she wasn't alone._

But she told herself she couldn't be afraid. After all, she was the one who helped Harry and Ron in finding the horcruxes, while living in constant fear for months. She wasn't going to let the unfortunate string of coincidences get to her. And so, still determined, she walked back to the couch, and continued reading where she previously left off.

She didn't notice the man with his cloak, who was now grinning at her like a maniac.

oOo

Almost half an hour had passed without any other strange incidences, and Hermione was almost fully convinced that it had all been just some strange coincidence, and that she must have been the one who left the window and the cupboard open. It must have been her faulty memory that told her otherwise.

It all made so much sense.

At least, that was, until she heard someone – or something – turning the water on in the bathroom. At first, she didn't hear anything, but after minutes of silence, she noticed that there was a sound coming from far away – or from the bathroom, blunted by the door -, which sounded suspiciously like running water.

It was really weird. There was no way she could've left the water open after she bathed Lorcan and Lysander, or, even if she did, there was no way she wouldn't have noticed it if she did.

But once again, not bothered by her instinct, which told her to run, to get away from it all, she grabbed her wand, left her book on the coffee table once again, and headed to the bathroom door.

Inside, she noticed, much to her dismay, that the water was indeed running. It was strange. Up until that point, she had been sure that it was all her imagination, and for some reason, the silence had been creeping her out, but no. That wasn't the case, apparently.

But she knew once again, that she it shouldn't make her afraid, so she grabbed the handle of the water, and turned it off.

Or, she would have, if she hadn't felt a hand pushing her in the tub with full force.

Letting out a yelp, she spun around as fast as she could before the back of her hit the wall behind her with a sickly crack. Her wand rolled away from her, and she felt her blood creeping down on the nap of her neck as she faced the man standing in front of her.

She couldn't see his eyes, as they were hidden under his cloak, but her eyes caught his wicked grin, and it made her sick in the stomach.

"W-Who are you…?" she stuttered, feeling already a bit dizzy from the blood loss.

"That doesn't matter, darling," came the answer from the man. " _Diffindo!_ "

Hermione felt pain shooting in her left arm as the cutting spell slit her arm open, blood oozing out of her newfound cut as well.

"What matters is the way you're going to scream for your death in mere minutes," the man continued. " _Diffindo!_ "

Hermione felt another cut, this one on her right arm, at a slightly lower place than the previous. She felt light-headed, and struggled to get her next words out.

"W-Why…" she whispered, wincing from the pain that was shooting through her body.

"Because you've done too much to this world for your own good," replied the man. " _Crucio!_ " he hissed, his tone alone making Hermione shiver.

Unbearable pain shot through her again, making her wriggle in pain, though she fought against the screams that were rising in the back of her throat. She was not going to let them man get what he wanted.

"You're one persistent witch, it seems," said the man. _"Crucio!_ "

Hermione couldn't bear it anymore. She opened her mouth to protest, but her words were muffled by the scream she let out, echoing in the room as she felt the man cutting a final wound into her abdomen.


	37. 37: Epilepsy

**A/N: You know… I love Psychological AUs. And this week, I'm being utter Harmony trash (Also, most of my genius on the topic comes from Wikipedia). Enjoy.**

 **Word count: 541**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : DADA Assignment #5 – Write about a character in a situation where they have completely lost control.

* * *

"It seems Mr Potter is suffering from epilepsy, Miss Granger," the woman in the white lab coat said. "The cause seems to be the stress that he had been suffering from during the war, but it also seems that yesterday's happenings and the hit he received on the back of his head was what brought it out."

"Epilepsy?" the frizzy-haired woman replied, while drawing circles on the back of Harry's hand, which she had been holding for the last few minutes. "So that means…"

"Yes, the seizure he had wasn't incidental," the doctor answered. "I can't prevent them from happening ever again, but I can write up anticonvulsants as a medication."

"Thank you, Mrs Green," Hermione nodded. "Come on, Harry. I think we should go home," she gave one last squeeze to his hand before standing up and dragging him up as well. "Hey, Harry, are you okay?" she continued, when she didn't receive an answer from the man beside her.

He seemed completely unresponsive, staring into nothingness without even blinking. Hermione knew that when Harry did that, another episode was coming, and whenever it happened, Hermione tried to prevent it.

She didn't want it to happen, because every time Harry lost control of himself and screamed, trashed, and begged for something that clearly wasn't there, Hermione's heart clenched at the sight. She knew there wasn't much she could do besides being the much needed emotional support. In those moments, she felt like she was just as out of control as Harry was.

And then, she heard a loud clattering noise, coming from just outside the office, and in that moment she knew, she just _knew_ that she and Harry had once again lost a battle against the episodes.

It always happened so suddenly.

Harry's limbs started shaking uncontrollably, his head fell back and he let out what sounded suspiciously like a cry, and with one swift movement, he himself fell on the floor, his body completely out of control.

Hermione quickly got down to her knee and held Harry's hand in her face, trying to calm him down by holding it in one place, stuttering little nonsenses to him, which she knew he couldn't hear, but she often did that to try to calm herself down as well. Or, at least somewhat.

It did help that Mrs Green also kneeled down beside the pair and zipped down the hoodie that Harry was wearing.

It took Harry almost half a minute to finally stop twitching, and now, he was laying on the floor, motionless, only his slightly unsteady breathing indicating what he had been through in the past few minutes.

Hermione let out a sigh. She felt tears dwelling in her eyes, but tried to fight them back, because she most certainly didn't want to break down right then and there. She wasn't going to lose control over herself again.

"It's all going to be okay, Miss Granger," the doctor hushed. "I'm not saying it will go away forever, but if you take care of him correctly, it can be avoided."

"It's not that," Hermione sniffed. "But thank you, Mrs Green, for your support," she said, then hovered next to Harry's ear and noted quietly. "It's all going to be okay."


	38. 38: Mirror Mirror

**A/N: I just realized I haven't written anything Bella-related. I guess there's a first time for everything. Enjoy.**

 **Word count: 970**

 **Beta love: Huge thanks to Kefalion (Frida) for betaing! :)**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : Divination Assignment #6 - Write about a character asking questions (out of worry, nervousness, guilt - anything) to a mirror or any reflective surface. Think of it like when someone might be questioning aspects of their life, and they find themselves looking in a mirror whilst questioning.

 **QLFC Practice Round:** Write about Bellatrix Black. (extra prompts: (sentence) The clock on the wall seems to be ticking backwards, (dialogue) "Your father and I disagree; you are forbidden.", (phrase) Good as gold)

* * *

 _Mirror, mirror on the wall_

 _Who's the evilest of them all?_

 _Hair black as her surname, skin light as her foes,_

 _Lips tainted with curses, but her beauty's widely known_

~oOo~

Bellatrix was standing in front of the mirror in her bathroom, scrutinizing her appearance for any little imperfections she could correct while she was still there. She wore a long, black dress with laces hanging off of the shoulders and her trademark high-heeled boots. A belt was hanging on her broad hips, and in the holster laid her walnut wand, which was currently unused, though she was sure that would change before long. .

To an outsider, she would have seemed like a perfectly calm and collected young lady, with her head held high and her back straightened, but on the inside, she couldn't help but feel nervous. Of course she had been taught how to mask her emotions in her younger years, and she had perfected the ability to look composed long before she turned fifteen – and she was already seventeen, officially an adult now, and her ability to behave like the noble woman she was never had only increased -, but nobody had ever taught her how to control her feelings on the inside.

And now, that fact was not going to help her. She had heard that the Dark Lord was rather merciless – which she thought was perfectly reasonable -, but he was also a master of Legilimency, and she dared not think about what would happen if he found out about her inner turmoil. Looking weak and cowardly in front of him could potentially be a fatal mistake.

"Will I be enough to join the ranks of the Death Eaters?" she asked her reflection with a steady voice. The other her, the one looking back at her from the mirror seemed to be telling her yes. After all, she was a daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, who wouldn't want to accept the heiress of said family?

"But will he forgive my sister for turning away from our family?" she pressed on, asking herself another question that was weighing on her mind.

It was true, her younger sister, Andromeda had made it abundantly clear that she didn't want to be a part of an anti-Muggle society, and that she would not marry Rabastan Lestrange, like she was supposed to, instead, she opted for a Mudblood Hufflepuff named Ted Tonks. Bellatrix could still recall when Andromeda had told their mother about the marriage plans in the hopes of getting some kind of help from her. She had been full of hope.

That was, until Druella answered her the following day. She had said, "Your father and I disagree; you are forbidden". And that was it. Bellatrix's sister no longer cared about a family that couldn't accept her decisions, so she left to pursue her chosen path and was blasted off the family tree.

And so, Bellatrix feared that she may have to suffer because of what Andromeda had done. Bella was deeply ashamed about it, since she couldn't understand what could be more important than to carry on the bloodline of her family. Ever since she was born, she had been good as gold in the eyes of her family; she deeply believed in whatever beliefs they had, and she couldn't wait until she turned seventeen, when she could finally do something to further the eradication of dirty blood.

She wasn't sure if she was going to be punished for her family's sins, but if she was, she would grin and bear it. After all, it would be deserved.

"Will my magical abilities be enough?" was her next question to her reflection. She was a well-known fanatic of dark magic – and she often liked to demonstrate her knowledge and devotion to the topic, mostly on whatever little creatures wandered into the garden - she was proficient in duelling – according to her last two DADA teachers, at least - and she knew a thing or two about Charms as well, but she had never been any good at Potions or any of the other subjects – which she deemed useless anyway, but now that she thought of it, maybe they would have come in handy, if it was what her induction depended on.

She had heard that only the fiercest, the most loyal and the most knowledgeable of the Dark Lord's followers would get into the sacred Inner Circle, and as a proud pureblood heiress, Bellatrix would not have opted for anything less than being as near to the Lord as she could. And if she was going to get in this Inner Circle, she would have to prove that she was good enough, not just with her loyalty to the Dark Side, but with her abilities as well.

Maybe she would have to duel the Dark Lord himself. What an honour that would be!

She couldn't help the excited and slightly maniacal glint in her eyes that appeared at the thought and which she noticed when she glanced back at the mirror.

In those moments, the clock on the wall seemed to be ticking backwards, as her expression became more intense, although nothing else changed on the outside.

Even though she still felt nervous about her first meeting with the Death Eaters, if it depended on her, she would show them that she was better than any of them, no matter how much it would end up costing. She would pride herself in being the best, and nobody would argue with it. In spite of her young age, she would become the Dark Lord's most faithful in no time, she decided, she vowed.

And as she cast one last glance at the mirror, she realized that failure would not be an option either.


	39. 39: Deal

**Word count: 850**

 **Ultimate Battle Competition 2** : Battles Round 1 – main prompt: (location) Hog's Head, bonus: Stormy Brooch – Mentions of the words 'thunder', 'lightning' and 'storm' ( _used 5 times_ ), and Hawk Wings: Mentions of birds of prey ( _used once_ ))

 **Hopscotch** : (word) blue, (word) nail, (weather condition) snow, (word) crinkle

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** Herbology Assignment #6 - Write about someone pretending to be something else to gain favour with someone they intend to hurt. (extra prompt used: (scenario) an item or person is made to look like someone/something else through the use or transfiguration magic or the Polyjuice Potion)

* * *

It was a rather dark and snowy evening in Hogsmeade. A storm with thunders and lightning was nearing the little town, and nobody was out on the streets; everybody was comfortably nestled in their cottages, not wanting to experience the blizzard out in the chilly cold.

That was, except for the shabby looking man, who was waiting outside the Hog's Head, hands deep in his pockets and the hood of his coat hanging over his head, covering his eyes. In his pocket laid an empty vial, which had been full of Polyjuice Potion until mere minutes ago. Nobody could see the cold grin on his face, until another figure appeared right beside him with a loud crack. In that moment, the smile on the former's face disappeared and was replaced by an expression of disinterest; he knew it was the advised look when meeting up with shady people and others in close connection to the Order.

"Shall we go inside? The storm is getting near, and I wouldn't want to get soaked," he asked from his companion, who nodded simply and sauntered into the dimly lit bar.

Once inside, the man and the other person – a woman, who was wearing a deep blue cowl and had its hood over her head as well – situated themselves around a table in one of the shadowy corners, none of them alerting the bartender, although somebody did come over to them to ask if they wanted anything. The man ordered a bottle of firewhiskey, while the woman quietly refused to drink.

Minutes later, after the man had received his firewhiskey, he blurted out the question he had been meaning to ask ever since the woman turned up next to him.

"So, a little swallow has chirped me that you have some info I could use, don't you?" he asked the woman while taking a gulp from his glass.

"I do," the woman nodded. "But every word I tell you has its costs. And I like to get paid before I do the job. Being a dealer has its ups and downs, you know."

The man's eyebrows crinkled in mild frustration before shaking his head. "Would never have taken you for a miser," he noted before passing a few golden coins across the table. "Now, tell me. You know I would never blackmail you anyway."

"Don't try to get into my good ranks now, it's a bit too late for that," the woman scoffed. "And truth be told, this is not really a favourable place for this kind of chatter; anybody could hear us. But suit yourself, and just because you asked so nicely, I will tell you a thing or two," she let out a half-smile. "I heard that the Order knows about the Death Eater attacks on Newcastle; they're planning an ambush. I will be there too, you should come and help as well. And it also seems like Dumbledore has some kind of a plan to bring down You-Know-Who; he always has this glint in his eyes whenever he talks about it. I don't know the specifics though."

"Is that all?" the man inquired, his nails digging into the flesh of his palm in exasperation, while holding his glass of alcohol in his other hand.

"Why so eager?" the woman retorted. "If you really do want to help the Light Side, then you should be happy for anything I have."

"Indeed, although it is still not much. But I guess I should thank you for telling me this much. You can expect to help your case all right," the man nodded.

The info he had gathered was not much, but, he supposed, the Dark Lord would still be somewhat glad if he told him wat he had learned from this conversation.

"Well, thank you for your time," he stood up abruptly, glancing at his pocket watch. The potion would wear off in minutes, so he had to go immediately. "We'll meet up again, sometime?"

"I suppose; it depends on whether or not you'll disguise yourself next time, _Regulus_ ," the woman gloated the last word.

"How…" he began to ask, but he was intervened by the woman.

"How did I know it was you?" she started. "Well, I'm not a beginner, I know a thing or two. But put that aside, I'm rather intrigued by you. Why are you so intent on hurting me when I know you'd rather not be a Death Eater? Is it a personal revenge? Why befriend me just to stab me in the back?"

"I have my reasons, and I'm not doing it for the Dark Side, I'm doing it for myself and myself only; I have no one else left to care about anyway," he exclaimed. "And you should keep your voice down. People will hear us; and in a shady place there are also shady people."

"Well, you failed," the woman spat. "Maybe you shouldn't try to deceive me next time, since I'm supposed to be your friend or something. See you," she said, then stormed off into the cold winter night, leaving the man behind.


	40. 40: Everyday Exercises

**Word count: 900**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** Arithmancy Assignment #7 – Write about something that happens on every day of the week.

 **Ultimate Chocolate Frog Card Club** : (Silver) Dunbar Oglethorpe – Incorporate an argument about Quidditch into your story.

* * *

 _Monday_

"Come on, you slackers!" She shouted at her team. "We won't win the match on Sunday if we don't practice enough! I know, it's been a long break between the end of last season because we dropped out before the playoffs, but being out of form is not enough excuse for a season-opening loss!"

"But Ginny," one of the team's reserve Chasers panted as she dropped onto the grass, "we've been running for more than twenty minutes now!"

"And you're already giving up," She gazed at her incredulously. "See, we all need to practice our agility; we won't win our matches if we can't keep up with the tempo for long enough."

The brunette Chaser didn't reply, but sighed, picked her broom up, and went back to jogging.

"She's a savage captain," she muttered to the Beater next to her a minute later.

 _Tuesday_

"Captain, do we get to fly today?" the brunette asked while the team lined up.

"Yes, Joanne," Ginny nodded. "We're starting with flying laps around the field today. Then, we'll split into groups and practice with the Quaffle and the Bludgers. That is, if you can complete your laps fast enough."

She heard a number of groans erupting from the line in front of her upon hearing the practice plan.

"Come on, everybody!" she called. "The faster you warm up; the sooner you can play Quidditch! This is what you signed up for when you decided to be professional players, right?"

Nobody replied.

 _Wednesday_

"Penelope, as a Seeker, you should be on the lookout for the score, so if we're behind in points, you should be focusing on leading the other Seeker away from the Snitch until we can make it at least a tie. Don't try to pull a 1994 Viktor Krum, understood?" Ginny commanded.

"Understood, Captain," the blond-haired girl named Penelope nodded.

"And we, Chasers won't focus on the Bludgers either; we'll do everything we can to score as many points as we can, understood?" Ginny continued.

"Yes, Captain," Joanna and the other Chaser replied.

"Good. The Falcons are a tough team to beat; they have complex strategies and top players – no wonder they won the cup last season – but they have their weaknesses as well, and we have to exploit them," Ginny explained. "And keep an eye out for their Keeper."

"Isn't he the one you'd dated a year ago?" A girl in the back noted, to which a couple of players let out a giggle. "I hear he's a really good kisser."

"He is," Ginny smirked as a response. "But we still have tactics to go over with. So, as I said…"

 _Thursday_

"Good job everybody!" Ginny called as the Harpies' team filed into the Changing Room. "We'll still have practice tomorrow, but we're getting into form."

"Gin, do you think we can win against the Falcons?" Joanne inquired as she picked her broom up.

"Nothing's impossible," Ginny replied. "Ron said we'll probably lose because we don't have enough experience, but he's a Cannons fan, so it doesn't really count, does it?"

"That was harsh," Joanne noted. "The Cannons have a good team; they just need to focus on teamwork."

"I guess that is true," Ginny nodded contemplatively. "But I think they should get a new Seeker."

"What? Their Seeker is absolutely fine!" Joanna argued.

"That's just because you like her," Ginny grinned. "Say, how did your date go with her?"

"Not bad," Joanne shrugged. "I'm meeting her again after our match."

"That's awesome, Jo'!" Ginny almost squealed. "Just don't let it distract you; we still have a game to win against the Falcons."

 _Friday_

"Everybody!" Ginny called as the team lined up. "This is our last physical practice before the match, so I expect your top form today. We're going to play a practice game, reserves against regulars, and I hope you'll do your best."

She then hopped onto her broom and kicked off the grass.

"What are you waiting for?" she shouted. "We don't have all day!"

 _Saturday_

"Hey, Gin, don't you have Quidditch practice today?" Harry asked as the redhead threw her bag down in the middle of the living room, in the Burrow.

"It was a tactical discussion only; I gave the team a free pass for today. We need the energy for tomorrow, you know," she replied as she plopped down onto the sofa.

"But you have to admit, playing Quidditch every day is exhausting," Harry exclaimed.

"Not really," Ginny shook her head. "Quidditch is a routine for me, so I'm used to playing seven days a week. I just hope we can beat the Falcons; it would be a perfect opening for this season."

"It would be a surprise," Harry exclaimed. "Sorry, but they're still the champions from last season."

"I guess you're right," Ginny sighed. "But I still expect you to be on the stands tomorrow," she sent a wink Harry's way.

 _Sunday_

"And after an intense game of three hours, Penelope Chamberlain, the Seeker of the Holyhead Harpies catches the Snitch and seals the win for Britain's one and only all-female team against the Falmouth Falcons, with a 560 to 440 scoreline!" boomed the voice of the commentator over the Falmouth Quidditch Arena.

"Good job, Penelope," Ginny smiled at the blond girl, who was grinning wildly, grasping the Snitch in her right hand.

"Thanks, Gin," she smiled back. "You weren't half-bad yourself either."


	41. 41: Obsession

**A/N: You may have noticed that I made some mild changes to canon here.**

 **Word count: 1503**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** Charms OWL – Write about possessive love (extra prompt used: (quote) "Simple things become complicated when you expect too much.", (object) Photograph of couple).

 **Candy from the Trolley** : Floral Allsorts – prompts – answer, fanatical

* * *

"Lavender, I don't think this is a good idea," Parvati noted as she shifted from one foot to the other, biting down on her lip in the process.

"Why?" the blond retorted as she ripped the photograph she was holding in two. "Parvati, I thought you of all people would understand the sentimentality of what I'm about to do."

"I do, but…" Parvati trailed off. "I think you're going a bit overboard. I think Ron would appreciate it if you weren't that obsessed either; you should just try to get closer to him like any other sane person would."

"I'm completely sane, thank you very much," Lavender huffed. "But I need to show him that he's mine," she explained as she shredded one of the halves into bits and pieces. "And not even Hermione can wedge herself between the two of us."

"They're just friends," Parvati let out a resigned sigh. "She has already told you that gazillion times."

"It certainly doesn't seem so," Lavender remarked. "Just look at this picture; they seem much too close for my liking."

"This photo here," Parvati pointed at the tiny pieces – which was all that was left from the right side if the original photograph – lying on the ground, "was Ron draping his arm over Hermione's shoulder, which she brushed off. Come on."

"Incendio," Lavender cast the spell and watched as the remains of the photograph erupted in flames. When only ashes and soot remained, she extinguished the fire swiftly and turned back to face her best friend. "So, now that's done, I wonder what should I do with this photo of him. Maybe I could get a frame for it; it would be cute, right, Parvati?"

"Um, yeah," Parvati replied with an uneasy tone.

"Of course, it would be!" Lavender almost squealed in delight. "That way, I would always have my Ronnie with me, even when I can't see him in person! Hey, Parvati?"

"Yes?" Parvati perked up upon hearing her name.

"I think you should frame Anthony's photo as well; then we would both have a picture of our loves! Wouldn't that be absolutely awesome?" Lavender suggested.

"I think I'll pass," Parvati shook her head slightly. "But if you want to, you can do it yourself. I guess I'll just stick to writing his name on the margin of my History of Magic textbook," she smiled faintly.

"That's cute too," Lavender agreed. "Maybe I should start a Ron-notebook, and then I could write his name down as much as I want!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"Merlin help me with this fanatical witch," Parvati sighed, but a sly grin was etched onto her face nevertheless.

~oOo~

"I know the solution!" Lavender squeaked in the middle of her History of Magic class, to which everybody – except for Professor Binns – turned their heads in her direction. Not a word was spoken for a couple of moments – except for the quiet murmuring of the professor – then the majority of the class shrugged or shook their heads in disdain and turned back to whatever they had been doing before.

"I know what I'll do," Lavender muttered with decidedly less volume to her tone. Next to her, Parvati peeked at her from behind the notebook she had been scribbling in. "Ron will be head over heels for me after this."

"Care to elaborate?" Parvati asked as she curved the last letter of the name 'Anthony' into her Charms textbook.

"I'll give Ron the best snog of his whole life after the Quidditch match; surely, he won't refuse me this time!" Lavender exclaimed rather excitedly.

"You're still on about Ron, Lav?" Parvati asked. "But he fancies Hermione…"

"Not for long, though; he's going to be mine soon," Lavender assured Parvati determinedly. "But remember when I told you they were more than friends? I was totally right."

"It's still one-sided, though," Parvati claimed. "I asked her, and Hermione told me she would never snog him; they're just friends."

"I don't trust that," Lavender huffed. "She could easily be swayed by Ron; he has the charms to do so if you ask me."

"He really doesn't," Parvati pouted. "I never understood why you got so obsessed over him either. But his freckles are kinda cute, I guess."

"They are!" Lavender nodded enthusiastically. "But don't you dare steal him from me."

"I wouldn't," Parvati smirked at her best friend. "You know, I got Anthony to drool over."

"Good," Lavender agreed. "I wouldn't give Ron over to you anyway. And just imagine; after he asks me out, we'll go on romantic dates to Hogsmeade, he'll hold my hand all the time and will carry my books to my classes for me; we'll have snogging sessions under the stars in the Astronomy Tower…" she let out a sigh in glee. "And then after graduation, he'll propose to me, and we'll have lots of kids and we're going to live together, happily ever after."

Parvati, after listening to her friend's rant about her insubstantial future with the youngest Weasley boy, she simply shook her head in disbelief and turned back to her notebook, which had been waiting for her to carry on with scribbling down her crush's name.

~oOo~

"So, what was the answer?" Parvati inquired as she noticed her roommate stumbling into their dorm. For a second, her blond friend looked utterly serious, then she squeaked with a rather high-pitched voice and began jumping up and down like the thrilled teenager she was.

"We're officially boyfriend and girlfriend now!" Lavender exclaimed. "So now I can borrow his shirts without having to ask him, I can send him cute letters whenever I want, and I can spend as much time with him as I want!"

"Just remember Rule Number One," Parvati warned. "Never be too clingy."

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind," Lavender noted. "We love each other; clearly, he wouldn't mind if we spent a bucketload of time together."

She seemed so excited and joyful; Parvati decided not to intervene and not to burst her happy bubble. She had her suspicions about the way Lavender intended to steer her relationship, and she wasn't quite sure if Ron had the same thoughts on the matter either, but she wanted her best friend to remain happy, so she didn't comment on it. She would just let it play out without interference.

~oOo~

It was a few months later, when one night, Lavender came bursting into the 6th-year Gryffindor girls' dorm, tears spilling from her eyes everywhere.

"Lav, what happened?" Parvati hurried over to the blond witch, a worried tone etched into her voice.

"He… He broke up with me!" Lavender cried as she collapsed onto her bunk bed, burying her head in the nearest pillow she could find. "He told me we needed to keep some distance from each other, because he had felt like I was choking him, and that if he was to be fair, he still fancied Hermione. It's disastrous!" she wept. "I don't understand why! We were so happy together, weren't we? I thought he loved me back, he was mine and I was his; what went wrong, Parvati?"

"Simple things become complicated when you expect too much. This is what my mum once told me," she mused as she plopped down next to Lavender. "I think you were a tad bit too clingy for him, even if you thought it was okay to be right behind his back all the time, but maybe he didn't feel the same. Had you ever talked about that, before you broke up?"

"No…" Lavender stuttered. "Not really… I just assumed we were okay since he never told me anything. I just… I just don't understand what could have possibly gone wrong!"

"Maybe that photo of him in that lovely frame on your bedside table was slightly overboard," Parvati admitted. "And maybe the teddy bear with the 'I love you' ensign was not his cup of tea either. Or maybe you should have given him more time with his friends; you know well that he still had a social life beyond you. But look, Lav, it's okay. I'm sure he'll forgive you eventually."

"But…" Lavender sniffed. "I still love him. And I couldn't bear to see him with any other girl; he's still my Won-Won!"

"Lav," Parvati conjured up a box of a handkerchief and handed it over to the blond witch. "I think you need to set your sights on somebody else. And there's plenty of fish in the sea; there are some other cute boys in the school elsewhere."

"But I don't want anyone else!" Lavender wailed.

"Okay, then…" Parvati seemed to be deep in thought for a brief period of time. "How about I get you some Chocolate Frog Cards? Padma had told me they're the perfect solution for heartbreak. And I have some white chocolate in my trunk as well."

"I… That would be nice." Lavender muttered. "Thank you, Parvati."

"Anytime, Lave," Parvati smiled softly at her best friend. "That's what friends are for, right?"


	42. 42: Seven Winter's Tale

**A/N: So… this is kind of a snap-shot collection, with no real connection between them (maybe the winter prompt…). It just kind of… popped into my head. Enjoy.**

 **Also, unnecessary alcohol consumption ahead.**

 **Word count: 1598**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : Alchemy Assignment#7 - In our school, the number seven has come up a lot during the years. This assignment is to pick one of those groups of seven and write a story on them. (I chose 7 years)

 **Hopscotch** : Beer (object) giggle (action), humming (action), decent (word), kid (word)

 **Ultimate Chocolate Frog Card Club** : (Silver) Katie Bell – Write about Katie Bell.

 **Candy from the Trolley** : Ice Mice – challenge – Write a story that is based in winter.

* * *

 **First year**

Katie was currently sitting on one of the benches around the Quidditch Pitch in Hogwarts, her eyes sparkling as she eyed the figures that wheezed in front of her from time to time.

It was the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match, and Katie supposed that when it was all snowy and chilly, the sport seemed even more enjoyable than it usually was. She was positively aching to mount her broom and fly a few rounds around the castle, but she knew she wouldn't be able to do so since she wasn't on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team yet.

In September, she was informed that she could participate in the try-outs only in and after her second year, which had made her mildly disappointed, but hopeful nevertheless.

Maybe now she was just a kid in the eyes of all the seventh years, but she was positive it would be her to whoosh over the grassy field in the winter next year.

 **Second year**

Katie looked out on the window of her dorm, watching the snowflakes crippling down onto the ground in astonishment.

Winter had always been her favourite season of the year, and not only because her birthday just happened to fall in December. It was all so mesmerizing; although, she supposed, sometimes the snowing was also a pain in the arse when one wanted to play Quidditch.

"Hey, Katie?" a voice called from the entryway of her dormitory. She spun her head around to face the voice, which turned out to be one of her best friends, Alicia Spinnet.

"Yeah?" she called.

"Are you going home for the winter break?" Alicia inquired as she stepped in the dorm room. "I was just wondering because Angelina won't be here, and I don't want to stay here alone."

"No," Katie shook her head. "But don't we have practices while on break?"

"Wood told me we would," Alicia shrugged, "but I suppose he would gain from a little break too. You know, with his OWLs coming up and all."

"I guess," Katie mused. "But yeah, I am staying for the break," she nodded, then stayed silent for a few moments. "You know what? I think we should reinstate the annual inter-house snowball fight you told me about last year. Fred and George would be up to it."

"That's a damn good idea," Alicia grinned. "Tell me more."

 **Third year**

"So, they say Lee asked you to go with him to Hogsmeade," Katie chirped as she plopped down next to Angelina in the Gryffindor Common Room. "And on Valentine's Day of all! Is any of this true?"

"Maybe," Angelina's cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

"You're so lucky," Katie sighed. "Lee is such a nice guy; I wouldn't say no to him if I were you."

"He is cute," Alicia chimed in from the far end of the deep red couch while she tried to suppress a giggle that was threatening to break out of her. "And you will have to tell us the details, Angie."

"And it will be so romantic," Katie noted. "I mean, who would refuse to possibly walk hand in hand while strolling through Hogsmeade? Especially in winter, when everything is covered in snow."

"Or maybe you have an unhealthy obsession with winter," Alicia giggled.

"I don't," Katie huffed and crossed her arms across her chest but a smile was playing in her eyes.

"Yes, you do," Angelina grinned at her as well.

"Okay, can we go back to the topic we were discussing before?" Katie asked with fake irritancy.

"Nope," Alicia replied. "I'm just fine with chatting about your obsessions."

 **Fourth year**

"Say, Alicia, what do you think?" Katie asked her best friend as she held up the pair of Chaser's gloves she got as a present from an anonymous acquaintance as a Christmas present.

"Wow, they seem brand new," Alicia gawked as she glanced at the item. "Are you sure you don't know who is it from?"

"I have no idea," Katie grinned. "But they seem to know me rather well, don't you think?"

"I wish I had somebody to buy me these kinds of things," Alicia sighed. "I'm sure you're like over the moon now, or something. I would be if I received something like this too."

"I am," Katie almost squealed in delight. "See? One of the reasons why I love winter so much."

"Come on," Alicia rolled her eyes. "If you got this present in June, or something, you would be just as ecstatic."

"But it's winter!" Katie argued. "How can you not like winter?"

"I like winter," Alicia shrugged. "But it's kinda cold. Spring is way better if you ask me."

"I don't understand you," Katie shook her head in disappointment. "There's a convicted murderer out there, and you guys can't even appreciate the snow while you could as well be his next target?"

"Don't even remind me," Alicia dismissed the topic with a dab. "It's a shame that Harry must bring danger with him every year. We haven't had decent end-of-term exams since your first year."

"I honestly don't miss them either," Katie pointed out, stuffing the gloves back into the package.

"Yes, but still."

 **Fifth year**

Katie was softly humming some incoherent tunes under her breath in her dormitory while she was watching the snow fall once again – as per her tradition – when Angelina came barging in her room with Alicia on her heels, panting heavily.

"Katie!" she shouted. "Guess who asked me out to the Yule Ball!"

"Was it George?" Katie inquired, turning her head to face her friends.

"No, it was actually Fred," Angelina exclaimed. "But…"

"You've been waiting for either of them to ask all this time?" Katie guessed. Angelina nodded enthusiastically. "I've always wondered how can you put up with them, even after your thing with Lee failed."

"He's still my friend," Angelina shrugged. "So, haven't asked this yet, but do you have anyone to go with?"

"Well, Cormac asked me the other day, but I refused," Katie admitted. "He's not really my type."

"Why am I the only one nobody asked yet?" Alicia grumbled under her breath in the background.

"I haven't accepted anyone's offer yet either," Katie shrugged. "I suppose I might as well just go solo."

"Say, how about this: if you two can't find a partner in time, you will just go together as friends!" Angelina suggested.

"Fine by me," Katie shrugged. "I just wanted to see the décor anyway. They say the Great Hall will look like a winter palace or something of the kind."

"Figures," Alicia chimed in. "It wouldn't be you if you didn't say anything about how wonderful winter is."

"But it is!" Katie argued with slightly flushed cheeks, to which her friend broke out in a fit of giggles.

 **Sixth year**

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Katie asked as she rummaged through her bag before pulling out a bottle from her bag.

"Well, you already have the drink with you," Angelina pointed out. "And besides, there's no better way to celebrate our last New Year's while in Hogwarts than getting pissed drunk!"

"Oh, hey," Alicia spoke as she plopped down onto one of the comfy armchairs in the Room of Requirement – where the three girls were currently camping in. "What did you bring, Katie? I heard it's some muggle drink."

"Yeah, it's called beer," she said. "My Dad told me that muggles love it like wizards love firewhiskey."

"Then it must be good," Alicia commented then took a gulp from the bottle she had opened before, then scrunched her nose slightly. "Eh, it's not as good as I imagined."

"How did you even get hold of it?" Angelina wondered.

"We have some at home," Katie shrugged. "And you told me to bring something strong before September, so I tried."

"Say, girls," Alicia perked up suddenly, "do you want to invite the other sixth and seventh years here? Or, the DA members, at least."

"But I'd have to sneak back into the dorms and then back here again," Katie moaned. "Angie?"

"Fine," she rolled her eyes. "But then you owe me one. And I'll make sure you won't watch the snowfall this year if you do."

"You should've been sorted into Slytherin," Katie muttered as she scraped herself together. "Okay, let's go."

"Oh, hey, I finally found a way to bribe you!" Angelina grinned.

"Definitely a Slytherin," Katie grumbled as the two of them stepped out onto the seventh floor corridor.

 **Seventh year**

Katie decided that maybe it was time she let go of her liking for the winter season as she glanced around in her hospital room.

In there, it was all too white, all too clean, all too artificial, unlike the snow she loved so much up until a few days ago. She couldn't help but notice that her being cursed on the way back from Hogsmeade made her lose her enthusiasm towards those magnificently white landscapes and the snowflakes she used to adore when she was younger.

She would always ask her Dad to take her out to play some Quidditch with her, and she would always watch as the little droplets of snow fell into the ground before she went to sleep; but it all seemed like a distant memory, now that she thought about it.

She wasn't quite sure how could this single cursed necklace drain all the appreciation she had held for winter, but it didn't really matter anymore.

It was a tad bit painful to think of it all now, but she would cope with it, she thought.


	43. 43: The Ghost of You Hangs Over My Head

**Word count: 1680**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** _Flying OWL/The Enchanted Forest_ \- word prompts: _Mischievous, Green, South, Dance, Flee, Cowardice, Safety, Worry, Blood; (task) Have someone protecting someone else from danger, (task) Include, mention, or speak about a family pet, (task) Include, mention, or speak about a mermaid/man, (spell)_ _Incendio_ _, (object) A ragged, ruined piece of clothing, (task) Have someone not believing what your character is telling them, (task) Involve a misunderstanding - note, this should be the last of your tasks/prompts in your story._

 _ **Hopscotch**_ _:_ hairband (object) jumping (action), cover (word), comfort (word), frog (word)

* * *

"I'm not sure if I want to do this," Padma exclaimed as she watched her twin scrubbing the Ouija Board over the sink.

"It'll be fun, I promise!" Parvati spoke as she set the board on the table after drying it with a towel. "I asked Professor Trelawney about it, and she said it was one of the most effective of the muggle ways to make contact with ghosts and other deceased people."

"I never cared that much about Divination, sis'" Padma declared, still eyeing the board with mild suspicion. "Must I be here?"

"Yes," Parvati nodded decidedly. "At least two individuals must be present while the channelling is in progress, and Lavender is on a family holiday, so you were the only one I could ask."

"Fine," Padma replied after letting out a sigh. "So, how does one do this?"

"We should light some candles first," Parvati suggested. "It will set the mood, and I've been told that candles attract ghosts as well, so that would mean we may have a better chance at speaking to a soul."

"Um, okay," Padma replied hastily. "I think we might have some spare candles in the basement… Should I go and check if we still have them?"

"Not without me," Parvati exclaimed. "I'm honestly afraid that as soon as you step out of this room, you'd flee and would rather sleep on the couch than to come near me while I'm doing necromancy. See, there's a reason why you weren't sorted into Gryffindor," she gave her twin a mischievous grin.

"Not wanting to speak with deceased people is not cowardice, it's just…" Padma tried to defend herself but failed miserably. "Look, don't worry, I wasn't going to back out; this is what sisters are for, right?"

"Sure," Parvati smiled. "So, let me help you out with those candles."

~oOo~

"Okay, the candles should be stored in here," Padma hoisted a cardboard box she and her twin had found in the basement. She swiftly ripped the duct tape from the box and peered inside, only to jump up and away screeching a moment later, a green and spiky tentacle swinging at the place had been to mere seconds before.

"Diffindo!" Parvati pointed her wand at the tentacle without hesitation, cutting it in half before it could reach either one of the girls. "What is that?" she asked after casting a quick sticking charm on the box so as not to let the beast – or plant out.

"It looked like a Venomous Tentacula for me," Padma answered, her voice still wavering slightly. "If one stings you, you can die from poisoning."

"Why do we even have them in our basement then?" Parvati furrowed her eyebrows.

"Don't ask me," Padma shook her head. "Look, there's another box over there," she pointed at the far end of the cellar. "Do you think we should check that one out?"

"Yes, but keep your wand out. Merlin knows what else we have down here," Parvati said. The two of them then neared the box soundlessly but cautiously. Parvati then levitated the duct tape off of the box as well, only to reveal a stack of candles bundled between a rainbow-coloured scarf, a ragged jacket with holes and burn marks all around, and several other clothing items, including a hairband and a number of bracelets.

"Nice, now we can head back up to safety before everything starts going south," Padma rushed to pick up the candles, tucking her wand away in the process.

"You really need to get out of your comfort zone more," Parvati sighed as she placed the box back under the cabinet.

~oOo~

Once back in Parvati's bedroom after their journey to the basement, the two twins started to place the candles they had found around the room, giving the place a dim light instead of pitch blackness.

"Incendio," Parvati muttered after she had set the last candle on her windowsill. "Okay, I think we should be ready to go."

"Uh… I'm still not sure this is a good idea," Padma argued.

"Are you afraid of ghosts or something?" Parvati inquired.

"No, I'm just not really fond of them."

"Then come on," Parvati encouraged. "It'll be fun, I promise."

"I wouldn't be so sure if I was you, but… okay," Padma sighed and stepped closer to the spirit board that was sprawled on the table, then placed her index finger on the pointer.

"I'll be the medium," Parvati offered as she touched the board as well. "Oh, spirit, come to us now. Please."

Moments passed, and when Padma was already on the verge of giving up, she felt the planchette under her finger move downwards, right onto the little 'Hello' word on the board.

"It worked," Padma gasped, but her twin quickly shushed her.

"Don't talk if not necessary," she warned. "It may scare the spirit away. Welcome, spirit, can you tell us who you are?" The planchette stayed put for a few seconds again, then proceeded to dance across the board.

"A" Parvati spelled the message out. "N-O-L-D-F-R-I-E-N-D… An old friend? Have we met?"

The two girls watched as the pointer hovered over the 'Yes' word in the upper right corner of the board.

"When did we meet? Was it before Hogwarts?" Parvati asked. The pointer stalled for a couple of moments, leaving a sense of uncertainty in the air before it started moving again.

"B-E-F-O-R-E… before what?" she tried again. "Y-O-U-L-E-F-T. It says we met them before we left, Padma. Do you know what that could mean?"

"What did we leave?" Padma furrowed her eyebrows, looking more confused than ever.

"I don't… Look, they're giving us an answer!" Parvati exclaimed. "H-O-M-E. So, we met this spirit before we left home… But we're at home right now!"

"I think they mean something else," Padma mused after a brief period of deafening silence. "Do you… Do you think they may be talking about when we moved to England?"

"Spirit, by leaving home, do you mean the time we left India with our parents?" Parvati asked, and watched as the planchette once again pointed at the little 'Yes' in the corner. "So, we probably know you from there. Were you the same age as us?" The pointer stayed put. "So they are. Um… How did you die then?"

"M-E-R-M-A-I-D-S… Mermaids?" Parvati looked confused. "How does one die to mermaids?"

"D-R-O-W-N-E-D," she continued. "So… Did mermaids drown you?" The pointer once again moved to hover over 'Yes.'

"And… When did this happen? Did it happen after we left?" Parvati asked. "Y-O-U-R… F-A-U-L-T. Padma, the spirit says it's our fault that they drowned! What should we do now?"

"I don't know," Padma's voice quivered. "But it's starting to creep me out. Are you sure you're not the one moving the planchette?"

"No, I'm not," Parvati shook her head. "And do not doubt the Ouija Board; it'll scare the spirit away, or worse, if it's a demon, it will linger in this very room forever!"

"O-okay…" Padma stuttered. "Can you remember anything we had done before this 'friend' drowned?"

"No, I can't," Parvati replied. "Spirit, can you give us pointers as to what we had done?"

"L-E-F-T-M-E, it says," Parvati mediated. "We left them to die? Padma, are you thinking of what I am?"

"Do you mean… That day we went to see the Indian Sea when we were nine?" Padma asked, and continued only after she earned a nod from her sister. "But… I heard that she had gotten out of the water unscathed… Hadn't she?"

"It seems she hadn't," Parvati confirmed. "Spirit, are you the girl who had told us she would go and take a swim in the sea before we had to leave because we were late for our flight?"

The planchette once again lingered over the 'Yes' word.

"I did not know you died that day," she admitted. "I'm… We're so sorry. Is there a reason why you came into contact tonight? And if yes, what did you want to tell us?"

"R-E-V-E-N-G-E," Parvati spelled. "You want revenge on us?"

The board didn't answer, instead, it flicked to the number 9 on the board, and started counting backwards.

"Parvati, I think the spirit shouldn't be doing this," Padma called.

"No, no, no, we should stop it before it reaches zero, or else, the ghost will free itself from the table, and Merlin knows what would happen then! Spirit, please, listen to us; we mean no harm!" The planchette stopped abruptly, then move upwards and across the letters.

"C-O-V-E-R-E-D-I-N-B-L-O-O-D… What is covered in blood?" Parvati squealed. "Spirit, can you tell us what are you trying to say with this? Is this a threat, or…" She didn't have time to finish her sentence, as a bark came from outside the room. Padma shrieked and released the pointer just as suddenly while Parvati's expression contorted into one of horror.

"Padma! It was just Fluffy, don't panic!" she tried to comfort her sister. "But… We may have lost the connection with the spirit. Spirit, do you hear me? Are you still here?"

The pointer didn't move.

"Okay, now I'm even more freaked out," Padma muttered. "What if there's an invisible ghost lingering around here? What if it's just waiting for the right moment to get its revenge on us?"

"It's okay, I'm sure the spirit will stay put wherever it is," Parvati assured.

"…This was of no use," Padma claimed after minutes had passed. "We didn't learn much from it."

"On the contrary… We have learned that she had died," Parvati retorted. "I don't agree with you, sis'. Maybe we should do this again sometime; I'm sure Professor Trelawney would be over the moon if we did!"

"Uh, not with me," Padma exclaimed. "I think I had enough of necromancy for a lifetime – and I didn't even finish my Charms essay because of this ritual. I think I'll go to sleep instead, how about you?"

"I just wish we had a frog instead of a dog for a family pet," Parvati sighed. "These sessions should not be interrupted like this."


	44. 44: In Which Theo Has Terrible Aim

**A/N: Well, my prompt speaks for itself. No blood purity, just friendly house rivalries. Enjoy.**

 **Word count: 1542**

 **2nd Annual Triwizard Tournament** : There is no Pureblood mania but the Houses do have friendly rivalries. Pairing: Different House relationships. Scenario: 'Sorry, that was supposed to hit the person next to you! But hey, you're really pretty cute, what's up?' AU

* * *

"Theo, mate, do you really think this is going to work?" the blond-haired Slytherin asked of his friend, who was currently scribbling down a couple of words onto a piece of parchment furiously. "You could as well just go and ask them in person."

"That would be way too Gryffindor of me," Theo mumbled back, not paying nearly as much attention as Draco would have deemed himself worthy of. "I'm not ready to give my house pride up."

"You're probably just worried that you'll get rejected," Draco pointed out, a sly grin spreading on his face rapidly. "Well, at least it's not like you're trying to ask out an actual Gryffindor. That would be even more shameful."

"Hey, Gryffindors can be decent, if you ask me," Theo retorted. "I know a couple of them; they're not half-bad."

"Still," Draco exclaimed. "However, that's beside my point. I think you could just as easily tap her on the shoulder while you two are walking down the corridor to Transfigurations class and ask her if she wanted to accompany you on the next Hogsmeade weekend."

Theo shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm certain she will appreciate the effort anyway. Just watch and learn," he said before carefully aiming the piece of parchment and throwing it over his friend's head, straight onto the Ravenclaw table.

"See? It'll land directly in front of her, she will smooth the paper out, ready my perfectly composed letter and…" before finishing, however, Theo suddenly shut his mouth and it down on his bottom lip, a slightly perturbed expression making etched onto his face.

"And?" the blond inquired, glancing over his shoulder to see what had happened.

"Uh…" Theo stuttered. "Nevermind. I might as well just stick to your recommendation."

That, however, didn't faze Draco a bit as he turned away from his housemate completely and scanned the Ravenclaw table thoroughly before catching a glimpse of what looked suspiciously like the letter The had written, except it was not in the hands of the intended recipient, but a fair-haired, dazed-looking girl next to her.

"Don't tell me you missed her from this distance," he snickered triumphantly. "How is that even possible? It's like trying to aim for my face and accidentally hitting Zabini with it," he gestured towards the Italian boy sitting next to him.

"Come on, it's not like I hit a Hufflepuff with it," The defended himself. "… Do you at least know anything about this girl I just sent a letter to, anyway?"

"Let me have a look," Draco turned around once again. He observed the girl with narrowed eyes and a contemplating look for a brief period of time before turning back to Theo and nodding decidedly. "Yeah, she's a Lovegood. The family is a batty one, though; if I were you, I'd at least make sure she's not as loony as her ancestors."

"I could say the very same about your family too, mate," Theo retorted before pursing his lips. "She looks pretty normal to me."

"She has radishes for earrings," Draco said as a matter of fact. "That's certainly more absurd than the pureblood mania my ancestors had had. And this girl currently reading the love letter that was meant to be written for that Lisa Turpin girl you have been mooning over in the last couple of weeks. I would say you're pretty screwed."

"…I think she looks good," Theo admitted slightly reluctantly. "Don't you?"

Draco let out a pained sigh. "Merlin, help me with this idiot," he muttered, more to himself than to anybody else.

"Oh, hey, look, she's rummaging through her bag for something," Theo observed. "Okay, it's a quill. Is she… Hey, mate, she's scribbling something down onto the message I sent her!"

"No need to broadcast it," Draco said indifferently. "I think I may have stopped caring about your love life as soon as you told me the Lovegood girl looks good. Not that it intrigued me until then anyway."

"You always sound so bitter," Theo rolled his eyes. "Oh, hey, I think she finished with writing an answer. Should I wave so that she notices me?"

Over the table, an exasperated Draco Malfoy was trying very hard to restrain himself from running over to the nearest wall and cracking a hole in it with his head. Instead, he opted for burying mentioned head in his hands.

"Draco, I got a reply from her," Theo announced, seemingly completely oblivious to his friend's previous actions. "Listen. She says, _Hello, TN. Inviting me to Hogsmeade was very thoughtful of you, and I'd love to meet you on this Saturday. But you never told me where you wanted to meet; should I assume that I'll have to find out? I love quizzes, you know. Luna."_

"I completely forgot to mention where I wanted to meet her," he continued.

"Where you wanted to meet Lisa," Draco corrected him.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Theo dabbed. "What do you think should I write back? I mean, where should we meet then? I was thinking we could go to the Three Broomsticks, but I have some other places to go as well…"

"Let me get this straight. Are you going to ditch me this Saturday for a random girl you just learned the name of? Oh, how Slytherin of you," Draco said, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

"She seems like a nice girl, okay?" Theo argued. "And besides, I haven't dated anyone for… three months. It was about time I found someone I want to spend my spare time with."

"But her?" Draco said. "Theo, sometimes I deliberately wonder why am I friends with you."

"You're just saying that because you only earned the third best grade in your Arithmancy class after Granger and that other Ravenclaw girl."

"This has absolutely nothing to do with my affronts," Draco exclaimed with a cold voice.

"Then let me do what I want without any commentary," Theo replied.

"Fine," Draco said. "But please, next time, inform me if you're planning on denying my company on the Hogsmeade weekend. I could have called a Quidditch practice together if it wasn't for my plans of going to Hogsmeade."

"So," Theo changed the topic suddenly. "Back to the topic, where do you think we should meet? I mean, are there constitutional 'date meeting' places, or…"

"There are some standard places you go to when on a date," Draco answered, "but this girl is supposedly crazy, so whatever you come up with will be fine with her."

"She's not crazy," Theo argued.

"How'd you know, if I may ask?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow so as to give stress to his words.

"You have to assume she's not until proven otherwise," The said. "Innocent until proven guilty."

"Why am I not surprised that you're using muggle phrases?" Draco asked flatly.

"Okay, now watch me; I'm confident I'm not going to miss this time," Theo exclaimed, then readied his aim and threw the paper pellet across the table. Much to Draco's amusement, however, it once again hit the girl on Luna's right, the witch supposedly named Lisa Turpin.

"Damn," Theo cursed under his breath.

"Well, at least your original recipient received the message at last," Draco said, a bemused expression still lingering on his face.

"I wonder if she would answer to it now," Theo mused.

"Don't be daft," Draco answered. "Look, I know you as an intelligent human being, Theo, but you have to admit that when it comes to romance and such, you have a horrible taste and an even more horrible perception of how things work. And let's just not talk about your aim. Make sure you don't go for the Beater position when you play Quidditch, seriously. I'd hate to see you earning a fault for hitting your own teammate."

"It's not like you're usually this blunt either," Theo pointed out, although otherwise, he was still craning in order to witness what happened with his letter at the Ravenclaw table. "You only do it if somebody upsets you, or if you hate them."

"Well, I'd say I'm more exhausted as of right now, but say as you wish," Draco said. "I'm just not too keen on listening to the monodrama you have here about the Lovegood girl."

"Oh, she gave the letter to Luna," Theo noted, once again utterly oblivious to what his friend had told him.

"Is that a good or a bad thing?" Draco inquired, furrowing his eyebrows in the process.

"I'm more intrigued by Luna if that's what you mean," Theo answered. "So, I guess it's a positive thing."

"…Okay," was all Draco said. "Well, I have Potions class soon, and I'm honestly tired of waiting for you to sober up from whatever daze you're in, so I'll see you before Transfigurations," he continued, standing up and gathering his belongings in the process. Then, as fast as he could, he bid his goodbyes to his other housemates and left the Great hall with the straightest face he could muster.

"Oh, hey!" Theo exclaimed when he got hold of his slip of paper once again. "She replied, and… Draco?" he said, confusion evident on his face. "… I wonder where he went," he finished his thread of thought after a moment of silence.


	45. 45: Do You Wanna Build a Snowman?

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the HP universe, nor do I own Frozen.**

 **A/N: So, I wrote this at literally at midnight, having 10 hours left to submit something for this round. And I never in my life seen Frozen. Ugh life. Also, in this AU of mine, Lily Luna is the younger sister of Rose, just because I can.**

 **Word count: 612**

 **Ultimate Battle Challenge 2** : Battles Round 2 – prompt used: (era) next-gen, and I was forced to write a Frozen!AU.

* * *

Rose was locked up in her bedroom again, left alone in her chamber, separated from her sister, Lily Luna, whom she hadn't seen for years. How many years, she has lost count, but it had been at least ten. Not once ever since the incident had happened.

It wasn't that she didn't want to; it was her greatest wish to see her sister again, to go out and play with her in the snowy landscape that was the kingdom of their parents, but she just couldn't give in. She wanted to protect Lily from the harm that she would most certainly cause her if she let herself get closer to her once again.

Her duty was to learn to control her powers, and until then, she would not step out of what once was the bedroom of both girls – although, nowadays, only she slept in it. It would all be just fine then; at least, that's what she had been telling herself.

She heard a soft knock on the door, followed by the tingling voice of Lily, asking her to come out and build a snowman with her.

"Do you wanna build a snowman?" she heard Lily sing. "Come on, let's go and play…"

Rose bit her lip, fighting back a bitter expression upon hearing her sister's word from the other side of the door. She wanted to say yes, she wanted to see Lily again and just wrap her in an embrace like she used to; she wanted to conjure up fortresses of snow, where she and Lily could waste the day away; and she wanted to laugh with her again, but as she glanced down at her gloved-clad hands, she inwardly shook herself and turned her back on the door.

"Go away, Lily," she replied after what seemed like hours.

"Okay, bye," she heard Lily's disappointed sigh for the umpteenth time. Then, she heard the clattering sounds of Lily's shoes as she pushed herself from the door, to presumably go and spend some time in her own bedroom, just as alone as Rose.

A couple moments passed as Rose turned her gaze to the grand window that had an astonishing view on the snowy lands around the castle. When Rose had been little, she used to just sit in front of this window and gaze at the nearby mountains, amazed by the scenery. From time to time, she would still do that although the magic of just watching had long since died out of it. It was more like a bad habit nowadays.

She sighed as she took the pair of gloves down from her hands, bringing them up to her face to examine them more closely.

There seemed to be nothing wrong with her hands, but she knew better. They were capable of brilliant magic, but this magic was also far too dangerous to be in her hands. Unconsciously, she brought her index finger closer to the window until she accidentally touched the glass, frosting it almost in its entirety. She then jumped back with a frightful expression etched onto her face, quickly putting her gloves back on.

She wasn't sure what had come over her in those last moments. Maybe she was just too stressed, since her parents, King Harry and Queen Ginny were leaving the castle for a week, and she hadn't heard from them ever since they left. But it was definitely not a good sign. It meant that she still did not have nearly enough control over her powers, but lately, even that had started to get out of hand.

For all she knew, she would probably never see her sister again at this rate.


	46. 46: Tattoos and Pineapples

**A/N: Is it just me, or does the prompts scream Sirius for everybody else too? Oh, and props if you spot the HIMYM reference. Enjoy.**

 **Word count: 721**

 **The Most Horrible Competition Ever** : Round 1 – prompts used: pineapple, someone gets a tattoo, crimson

* * *

Sirius was sitting behind the counter of his tattoo parlour, smoking a cigarette with one hand while his other one rested on the elbow rest of his chair. He breathed out the smoke with a completely unfazed and utterly bored expression, then took another puff from the burning butt of the cigarette.

Days like these were slow in this place, he admitted to himself bitterly. On a late Tuesday night, literally nobody was interested in getting a tattoo, so Sirius had always had a lack of customers those days. Today wasn't any different either; it was just him, the crimson walls with the pictures of tattoo samples hanging off them, his assistant in the office, probably waiting for him to close the shop up so that she could get her daily payment and the hum of the radio that was set to play the local rock station.

That was until he had finished his cigarette and was about to throw the stub into the trash can next to the front door when said door creaked open and two men, looking to be around the same age as Sirius stumbled in the parlour.

"Hello," one of them, a messy black-haired man with glasses waved, his eyes glinting slightly more than they generally should have. Sirius supposed he wasn't exactly sober – not that he minded; if it wasn't for the late closing hours, he would have probably been at the local bar in that moment as well. "My friend, Remus here, wants to get a tattoo. Oh, and I'm James. James Potter."

"I don't want a tattoo," the other man – apparently named Remus – argued. "You're making me do it."

"But I won the bet, so it's all fair," James poked his tongue at his friend, much like a five-year old. "You wouldn't want to keep me, or him," he pointed at Sirius, "waiting, right? Oh, and," he continued whispering with a hushed tone. He leaned towards his friend, thus essentially blocking Sirius from hearing his words.

What Sirius did see though was the blush that crept up onto the brown-haired man's face.

"So, as I was saying, Remus here wants a tattoo," the guy named James spoke again.

"Of what?" Sirius asked casually, mentally cursing himself for forgetting to buy another pack of cigarettes earlier on that day – he was already running low on the last package he had with himself.

"A pineapple, of course," James nodded like it was the most obvious thing Sirius could've asked of him.

"Now, that's a story I want to hear," Sirius couldn't help the grin that etched itself onto his face. "You wouldn't get a pineapple tattooed on your arse if it didn't have a good story behind it."

"I never said I wanted it on my arse," Remus chimed in, but James hushed him swiftly and turned to Sirius once again.

"The thing is, mate, I don't know what's up with it either. Remus told me that after he had had a date with some girl, he woke up in the morning and found a pineapple on his bedside table. He's been researching the whole thing for months now, and literally nothing has come up; weird, ain't it?"

"Sound fun," Sirius nodded.

"And then we had this bet going on about a friend of ours and when he would have the courage to ask this other girl out, and see, this guy," he pointed at Remus sardonically, "lost."

"So you celebrated it with drinking before coming to this parlour, right?" Sirius replied.

"Sure I did; wouldn't be a celebration if it wasn't for whiskey shots," James grinned. "Oh, and have I told you that we came here because Remus has seen you in the bar a couple weeks ago, and has taken up quite the fancy for you, but is too shy to admit it?"

"James!" Remus spoke after staying silent for so long, a flush now clearly visible on his cheeks.

"Why? It's true," James shrugged. "So, he wants this pineapple tat on his arse, how much is it?"

"James!" Remus repeated with slightly more edge to his voice.

"Okay, he wants it on his back," James sighed.

"It would be eighty bucks," Sirius said. "But you can have it for sixty because you're cute," he finished, giving Remus a wink in the process.


	47. 47: Whispers

**A/N: So, this is a theme I often work with (o rlly), but I haven't done it with these characters. I'm also pretty tired. Enjoy.**

 **Word count 1510**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : Herbology OWL – main prompts: Asphodel – Write about a ghost. /Self-fertilising shrub – Write about revitalisation. (extra prompts used: (plot point) Include a funeral in your story, (quote) "You don't have to worry about me. There's one thing I'm good at… surviving.")

 **Ultimate Chocolate Frog Card Club** : (Silver) Genie – Write about someone's wishes coming true.

* * *

 _I wish I could say goodbye to him for one last time._

Dennis was kneeling in front of his brother's grave. It was barely after Colin's funeral – one of the many after the Battle of Hogwarts, but he was not ready to leave the graveyard just yet. It was hard to believe that he would never see him again, if he was going to be honest – it all just seemed like a really bad nightmare.

Even when his friends and family were talking about and mourning Colin, Dennis kind of just felt empty, of all things. He felt detached from the world, as if he was floating inches above the ground – and for all he cared, he might as well have been. He had made a speech about Colin too – it was expected of him to do so – but even while he was reading it out loud, he didn't hear much more than a dull buzz.

He wondered if this is what dying felt like, when you couldn't feel your heart beating – even though supposedly, it still was beating in a steady rhythm; when you felt like lying down and never waking up again because you felt like there was no reason to breath fresh air again.

He gazed at his brother's tombstone again, the words 'Colin Creevey' and the years '1981 – 1998' etched onto the cold marble. All of it didn't really register in his mind, though, as his thoughts were elsewhere. They were somewhere in the past, wandering about in memories otherwise long forgotten, at a better place.

Then, he heard a whisper coming from his right.

 _I'm still here,_ it said. It sounded ominously like his deceased brother – which would have been impossible, right? From what Dennis had learned throughout his years at Hogwarts, it was that even though ghosts did exist, they were visible and they were permanent, not like a whisper in the back of one's head, more like an inner instinct than a separate entity.

But maybe it was just a figment of his imagination, he thought.

Until, he heard the voice call for him again.

 _I'm still here, Dennis. Please, don't ignore me,_ it said.

Dennis furrowed his eyebrows. Certainly, it couldn't have been his imagination if it happened twice, but still, how was he supposed to believe that somehow his brother was able to talk to him?

"C-Colin?" he muttered, spinning around to see if anybody was near. Nobody seemed to be there; only him and this mysterious voice in his head, which sounded like him.

 _Dennis,_ the voice breathed.

"H-How… Aren't you supposed to be dead?" Dennis almost squeaked. It was way too surreal, even for him – and he was a muggleborn wizard; he had encountered more strange things than most people in his life.

 _I am_ , the voice said. _But you needed me, so I came to talk._

"But I can't see you; you're not a proper ghost, are you?" Dennis asked, confusion still evident in his eyes and words.

 _It's complicated_ , the voice did what sounded like a sigh. _I don't really know how it happened; you'd have to ask somebody else about that. Maybe Harry Potter and his friends; they're good guys._

"I'll… I'll keep that in mind," Dennis nodded. "Look, Colin, I have many things to tell you. I'm not sure how much had you… seen from the Battle before, you know… it happened, but… we won. I just want you to know that your death wasn't for nothing. But… there were a lot of other dead people as well, some of them younger than you, younger than me even. It's just… At least you didn't have to witness that."

 _I wouldn't have done it any other way,_ his brother's voice said. _I have changed a lot since enrolling in Hogwarts, and I wasn't sorted into Gryffindor for nothing, he continued, pride edging its way into the voice._

 _I'm sorry for leaving you behind, all alone,_ the voice kept speaking on. _One reason I'm having this conversation with you is because I need to apologize. I'm your older brother; I was never meant to leave you behind. I was meant to care for you and protect you. I'm sorry._

Dennis could almost imagine his brother hanging his head in shame.

"It's… It's okay," he replied. "It's not your fault. I actually just wanted to come and say goodbye, for a little while, because I never got to do that before the Battle. I was sure you would come out alive. I've always looked up to you, even when we were younger – in my first few years in Hogwarts – and even now, and I took it for granted that if there was anybody who would survive the Battle, it would be you. Maybe I was wrong, but it's just too unbelievable."

 _That's exactly what I felt when Mum passed away,_ Colin's voice mused. _But you'll get over it, Dennis. I know I won't be there to help you, but… this conversation is all I could muster. Just focus on surviving. And don't miss me; I'll be happier if you carry on. Remember, you're also a Gryffindor. And Gryffindors never give up._

"You don't have to worry about me," Dennis exclaimed, trying to sound as determined as he possibly could. "There's one thing I'm good at… surviving."

 _I know_ , Colin replied; Dennis could feel the smile in his voice. _I don't have much time left here, with you, Dennis. I'm not sure how I managed to come back as kind of a pseudo-ghost, but I can't stay much longer. You'll have to leave this place behind and face the outside world._

Dennis sighed. "I just wish I could have done something for you."

 _Me too, Dennis, me too,_ Colin's voice answered.

"So, is this the goodbye then?" Dennis's voice rang through the cemetery, the finality of his words hitting himself like a ton of bricks.

 _Yeah, I guess_ , Colin's voice said. _See you, little brother._

"See you," Dennis whispered as he felt the voice slip far away from him, back into the realms of the dead.

And then Dennis felt just as alone and empty as he had before.

~oOo~

 _A year later_

Dennis was walked down the graveyard once again, his eyes locked onto the tombstone that he had seen so many times before. Except, the last time he had seen the grave his heart felt heavy with grief and his eyes were lifeless much like how it had been with the corpse of his brother when he died.

It was easier to cast his gaze onto the letters carved into the marble now. His heart still ached constantly, but he knew he was finally on his road to acceptance. He finally didn't need the ghost of Colin to loom over his head, to whisper to him in the back of his head, and to encourage him to go on. He could finally do all of it himself.

He kneeled down in front of the grave once again, took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again after he realized that he didn't exactly know what he was going to say.

He could've told Colin – well, Colin's grave – about what had happened to him in those few months while he was away from the cemetery. He could've talked about something trivial, something that was unimportant, something that nobody – not even him – would have cared about. But he felt like his silence was saying more than words would have.

After all this time, he felt like he was coming back to life once again; he felt the thud of his heartbeat against his chest, he heard the sounds coming from every direction around him, and he smelt the unmistakable aroma of various plants that were placed carefully on the top of the tombs.

Then, the words started to flow. Dennis didn't quite know what was that force that made him talk about all those things he had kept to himself, but he was pouring it all out, and he could only hope that even if that nagging ghost of Colin's wasn't present, he would still somehow hear everything.

He talked for what seemed like hours, about things he had experienced, about his thoughts, about what had happened to others as well, and when he finally finished with one last thought about how cold it had been last night, he felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

He then cast one last glance at the tomb and whispered. "Colin, I survived."

He stayed like this for a couple of moments before gathering himself off the ground and stepping away from the marble. He waved one last goodbye and quickly hurried away, although he would still occasionally steal a glance or two in the grave's direction until reaching the entrance.

And all the while, somewhere between reality and imagination, a bodyless soul watched the sixteen-year-old boy. And this pseudo-ghost would smile inwardly because he knew that Dennis was going to be okay.


	48. 48: Meditation 101

**Word count: 558**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : DADA Assignment #9 – Write about someone letting go, or helping someone to let go.

 **Weekly Character Appreciation Challenge** /Week 1 – Dean Thomas

* * *

"Am I doing this right?" Dean asked, forcing his eyes to remain closed while he shuffled around in his, rather uncomfortable, position.

Lavender, who had been sitting peacefully on the mattress with her legs crossed until then, slowly opened her eyes, squinted for a bit of time and then averted her gaze onto the dark-haired boy sitting from across her.

"No, Dean," she noted, "you need to get comfortable first. Meditation is about letting go of your stress and all your mundane problems; for you to be able to do that, you need to find a position in which you can relax, and only then you can focus on emptying your mind."

"Emptying my mind? How in Merlin's name am I supposed to do that?" Dean asked rather frantically.

"It's really easy if you think about it," Lavender replied. "You focus on the blackness right in front of you, because that's all you see while you're meditating. Try to let your thoughts wander away; try to separate yourself from your body. Just let go of the outside world and let your inner eye take over."

"I swear, sometimes you and Trelawney sound way too much alike," Dean shook his head. "So… What would this comfy position you're talking about be?"

"Well, try to sit in a posture you can keep for a long period of time without interruptions. Can you do that yourself?"

"Maybe," Dean bit his lip, wrinkling his forehead while deeply in thought. "Okay, I guess I can. Now what?"

"Now, you let your eyes fall shut naturally, and then you fixate yourself on ignoring the noises that come from the outside," Lavender explained. "Can you do that?"

"How does one concentrate on ignoring something, though?" Dean furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "If I think about ignoring said thing, I'll just subconsciously urge myself to ponder about it anyway."

"It's quite the opposite, actually," Lavender pointed out. "Parvati once told me that the most efficient way to make yourself sleep is trying to keep yourself wide awake. If you force yourself into thinking about staying awakened, you'll eventually fall asleep as a by-product of getting bored. Now, this may seem contradictory, but hear me out; if you tunnel on ignoring the noises, eventually, your mind will relax and focus on other things instead of the noises you want to ignore. That's the state you want to reach with meditation."

"Wouldn't it be easier if I simply started thinking about random matters? It's easier to lock myself up in the 'meditation bubble' that way, don't you think?"

"I'm following what Professor Trelawney had told me, and I trust her methods," Lavender shrugged. "So, what I want you to do is to close your eyes and let everything go; let your mind be an empty space. If you can hear a faint buzz in your head, all the better."

"A faint buzz?" Dean asked, completely bewildered. "That sounds ridiculous."

"Dean, you were the one who accepted when I suggested we do some meditation; if we are going to do this, then we're going to do this correctly," Lavender huffed, pursing her lips in the process.

Dean let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine," he said. "So, I close my eyes and just… let go?"

"Exactly," Lavender nodded, then slumped back into her sitting position herself. "Let it all go."


	49. 49: Curses

**Disclaimer: The HP world - sadly - does not belong to me. Nor does any of the stuff that happened in this fic, cause it's strictly canon - for a change. I also used some dialogues for the sake of keeping it canon; all are bolded.**

 **A/N: Confession time - This is only part of the 24th chapter of HBP - Only the Sectumsempra scene and the one before. It's because Draco happens to explicitly be only there, and I feel like that was the main momentum in that particular chapter. Enjoy.**

 **Word count: 1057**

 **2nd Annual Triwizard Tournament** \- Stage 3 - Rewrite a chapter from the books in another character's perspective.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was sitting at the far end if the Charms classroom, hidden in a shadowy corner from both his Gryffindor and Slytherin peers. He was gazing at a group of Gryffindors – a specific group of Gryffindors who were enjoying themselves rather loudly at the other corner of the room.

The blond Slytherin pursed his lips slightly in disdain. He didn't like the noise of those cheerful and chirpy lions – not when he was currently at the other end of the mood scale. He was sick and tired of everyone and everything – if he was going to be honest, he just wanted this class to be over and done with so that he could hide again in the Room of Requirements.

It seemed like the 'Golden Trio' – as everybody in the school liked to call them – was conversing enthusiastically about something. Draco felt a certain amount of envy towards the group, but at the same time, he tried to convince himself that it didn't matter. His was a miserable life at the moment, however, he knew all too well that there was no chance of it getting better anytime soon.

It was certainly a relief when Professor Flitwick finally sauntered into the room. At least, he wouldn't have to deal with all the happiness omitting from everybody around him.

* * *

Droplets of water dribbled down his face as Draco Malfoy stood, facing the mirror above the sink out of which flew fresh water. In the background loomed the ghost of this particular bathroom, Moaning Myrtle.

He had managed to escape his cronies just a couple of minutes ago and instantly went to the one place he was sure no one would disturb him. He had had enough of the generally cheerful and - even though slightly bickering - hyped attitude of the general student body, which was caused by the upcoming Gryffindor-Ravenclaw Quidditch match.

He, personally, couldn't care less about it. His plan of fixing the Vanishing Cabinet he found in the Room of Requirement was moving along still somewhat jerkily, and today was one of those days when he just couldn't bear with all the pent up worry and despair, so he hid somewhere presumably safe.

"Tell me what's wrong," he heard the ghostly voice of Myrtle call him. "Maybe I can help you."

"Nobody can help me," he muttered back, setting his back against the wall of the nearest cubicle. "Not you, not anyone."

"What if I can?" Myrtle insisted, her usual whiny attitude completely flushed down the toilet. "Let me help you, Draco."

"You can't," the blonde insisted, raising his voice slightly. "I'll be better off alone. Maybe I should just kill myself - if I don't he will eventually anyway. I have to finish it soon, and I haven't the slightest clue what to do with it. I've already tried everything and nothing ever worked. I might as well just give it up - the world will be better without me."

" **Don't,** " came Myrtle's voice from somewhere in the far end of the bathroom. **"Tell me what's wrong... I can help you..."**

 **"No one can help me,"** his voice staggered. **"I can't do it... I can't... It won't work... And unless I do it soon... He says he'll kill me,"** he mumbled, pressing his back even harder into the cold hard wall.

He risked a peek at the broken window, droplets of sweat and water still racing down his forehead while he lifted his gaze from his shoe. As he glimpsed the mirror, though, he was surprised to find that he wasn't alone at all - quite the contrary. Coming face to face with the mirror, he caught Potter's equally surprised expression.

Without giving the situation any second thoughts, Draco gripped his wand and sent a curse the other boy's way, who, seemingly realising what was about to happen, deflected the spell and sent a silent hex at the blond wizard.

Draco didn't recognise the curse, but he was wise enough not to ponder about it. Instead, he hurled out of the way of the spell and sent a silent Obstructo Potter's way. He could have used darker curses for all he knew, but he was emotionally tired on a level that he simply couldn't risk exhausting his magic for anything that dark.

After sending another couple of hexes and curses at the other boy, Draco decided that he had had enough, and opened his mouth to cast a swift Crucio on Potter. What he didn't account for was that Potter would be faster than him.

" _Sectumsempra!_ " the Gryffindor boy shouted, a red beam of magic shooting out of his wand. Before Draco could even blink, he was on the floor, bleeding from several deep wounds.

Pain.

Pain was all he felt; a pain near worse than torture itself surging through his body. He trembled, unable to move an inch of himself willingly while he felt the blood pooling on the marble floor, mixing with the water of the sink as it dribbled down from his abdomen. He saw stars; he was not sure if he was conscious anymore until he heard a soft voice murmur a few words – it sounded like Latin.

The next thing he knew, his wounds were somewhat healed – well, at least he wasn't afraid of bleeding to death anymore – and he was faced with none other than his DADA professor and Head of House, Severus Snape. He was in a half-standing position – not quite stable yet, but he wasn't on the verge of passing out anymore.

" **You need the hospital wing. There may be a certain amount of scarring, but if you take dittany immediately we might avoid even that. . . . Come. . . ."** Snape said, lifting him up fully, helping him stumble out of the bathroom.

Neither of them said a word on the way to the Hospital Wing, and Draco was glad they didn't – he wasn't sure if he could have talked about what had happened beforehand in those minutes.

Having arrived at the Hospital Wing, Snape only bid him a quick farewell, saying that they would talk about it later on before handing him over to Madam Pomfrey. Still unstable on his own, though, Draco immediately fell onto the nearest bed, and the next moment, all he saw was black once again.


	50. 50: They Cut Like Knives

**Warnings: Mentions of self-harm. depression, angst, and more angst. You've been warned.**

 **A/N: Well, this turned out darker than I had esteemed it would. Welp. Enjoy.**

 **Word count: 502**

 **Cards Against Humanity Competition** : Black card: "Maybe she's born with it. Maybe it's…" White card: "Poor life choices."

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : Alchemy Assignment #10 – Write about a secret.

* * *

Ginny Weasley was not sure how she managed to drive her life down this road. The spiral of lies and all those secrets she kept to herself were slowly asphyxiating her, and she saw no way out of this endless loop she found herself in.

Supposedly, it had started back when the war was still going on, in her sixth year. Without Harry and without much hope for the future of the wizarding world, the redhead had little to pray for – especially in the environment that Hogwarts had provided. Life was gloomy and depressive, much like a shade of dark grey; was it even a surprise that she resorted to things she hadn't ever thought of before?

The first cut was always the worst. It was always full of pent up sorrow and hopelessness, accompanied by the pang of guilt for doing… that with herself, with her family, with everybody she knew. Still, it was better than the emptiness that followed her everywhere she went otherwise. At least there was pain; at least there was something to fill the void that the war had carved into her.

Even after the war wrapped up in the Battle of Hogwarts, she had not stopped. At night, she would still cry herself to sleep occasionally, and she would sometimes slip into the bathroom, ripping her, both mental and physical, wounds up over and over again, just because it was too hard to cope with the death of so many of her beloved ones – her brother, her friends, all innocent people that died before it was time for them to go.

Part of why she had never told anyone about it was because she felt somewhat ashamed of it. It was a weakness of hers, a weakness she did not want – she wanted to remain courageous like her usual Gryffindor self, so she sealed away her dirty little secret.

Where did the scars come from? It was that bloody cat of Hermione's.

Where did she vanish so often? She was just running some amends with a few friends from Hogwarts, or she was cleaning the house up. It was none of their business anyway.

Lie came upon lie about her whereabouts – no one seemed to notice how shallow her act actually was – or maybe they did, they just didn't want to acknowledge it. Or, better yet, they felt the same and had not yet found the answer as to how to stop the grief. Ginny didn't know, nor could she care anymore.

How did it come down to this? Maybe she was born with it. Maybe it was poor life choices. Maybe it was the terror of the war that had taken its toll on her.

Sitting on the cold hard floor of the bathroom, though, with a blade in one and a towel in the other hand, she once again succumbed to the despair and depression she had been holding back for so long. It was a temporary and bitter relief, but a relief nevertheless.


	51. 51: Let the Past Burn

**A/N: Whoop whoop! Idek what this story is; it just popped into my head, and it's past 2 AM here and I've been writing this for half a hour. I'm tired. Ugh. Anyway. Enjoy.**

 **Word count: 558**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : DADA Assignment #10 – Write with close to no dialogues. Max 5 lines.

 **May Events Checklist** : Symbols of May/3 – Write about a Slytherin, Silly Holidays/22 – Include a notebook in your story.

* * *

Notebook in hand, Pansy Parkinson plopped down onto her emerald green sofa, watching the vibrant flames dancing playfully in her fireplace. It radiated warmth; warmth that she didn't want to feel on her skin. Staying cold and rigid fit better with her current mood; her glare, which she studied the notebook with was a good indicator.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, the dark-haired girl flipped the journal open, her eyes scanning over the page in a rapid fashion. The first page was scribbled fully; a date written on the top, the paper filled with deep blue ink from top to bottom.

Pansy, after skimming through the page, started studying the writing more thoroughly, her frown deepening with every passing moment.

3rd September 1995, the date read.

It's been more than five years, a sudden thought flashed through Pansy's mind. And I still haven't forgotten. Still haven't forgotten what had happened between the two of us.

A shot of pain stabbed her in the chest upon reading the words she had scribbled down when she was fifteen years old. 1995 wasn't exactly the happiest year for her, as it wasn't for anybody in Magical Britain, nevertheless, she had cared less about it. She had still believed that maybe, one day, the two of them would lead a life together, simply because it had made sense then.

She had poured all her feelings onto these parchments in her tiny notebook; now, these feelings resurfaced as she was scrutinising the pages all over again like she had done so a lot of times in the past years. What made it especially painful that this was the day that she had to let go of it, finally. The day when she would have to cease this fight she had been having with herself, because she knew that he wouldn't be hers, ever.

He had gotten married earlier that day, and she was invited to the ceremony—which she attended, of course. Watching him and her bride walk down the aisle made it somewhat more real if nothing else.

Ever since the stabbing pain hadn't ceased to exist, instead, it intensified with every passing minute. Alas, Pansy knew that it wouldn't hurt much longer—she just needed one last glance at her diary before bidding goodbye to it.

Flipping through the pages, Pansy noticed once again that from time to time, her entries would be scarce; other timed, she wouldn't write anything at all. She couldn't quite remember what happened exactly on those days, but she supposed it must have been something good—since she most often wrote in her journal when she wasn't feeling alright.

After what seemed like hours—and it may as well have been hours—she had finally had enough of reminiscing. Accepting the ugly truth and moving on with a smile on her face would the best Pansy could do, and that's what she would do. Thrusting the diary towards the fire, the girl stood up from where she had been sitting until she could drop the book between the flames, watching it eat away the pages, burning Pansy's memories into ashes.

She had promised herself that she would never forget the boy she had once loved—maybe hadn't even loved; she didn't exactly know. This wasn't a goodbye to him; it was a goodbye to her past.


	52. 52: For Who You Are

**A/N: I guess you could say this is me getting back to writing. Interestingly enough, with a Fremione, of all things (may I remind you that something similar happened in December?).**

 **Oh, and Fred Lives!AU. Obvs. Enjoy.**

 **Word count: 1200**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : Transfigurations Assignment #1 - For this assignment I would like you to write about a character's inner workings, the characteristics, emotions, quirks and flaws that make them who they are and how important these small sections are to the character as a whole. (extra prompts used: (pairing) Fred/Hermione, (emotion) hurt)

 **Ultimate Chocolate Frog Card Club** : (Silver) Ignatia Wildsmith – Use the Floo Network in your story.

* * *

Sitting by the window, Hermione rested her head against the cold glass. Outside, the streets were dimly lit by the street lamps as it was already dusk, and the clouded sky painted the scenery a gloomy shade of grey.

Tears pooled in the corner of her eye, but she wiped them away before they could make their way down her cheeks. She was not going to let her mood get the better of her, even though both the weather and her emotional state called quite out for it. No, she was going to be stronger; she would keep carrying on despite the spike in her heart.

You can't let it get to you, she encouraged herself. It's time to scrape yourself together.

As she was about to stand up from her rather uncomfortable place by the windowsill, Hermione heard the Floo Network roar into life. Not having expected any late visitors for the day, she furrowed her eyebrows, her right hand instinctively hovering over her wand holster.

The first thing she saw of the person stumbling out of her fireplace was the trademark ginger hair of the Weasleys.

"Ron?" she said, as per the first person to come into her mind. She wasn't quite sure why would she say it; she knew it wasn't going to be him. Maybe it was the remnant of a blind hope she still carried. Being emotional in situations where she would rather have stayed rational was one of the things Hermione Granger often cursed herself about—ever since the war had ended, that is.

"Nope, sorry," came the answer from the redhead. True enough, it wasn't Ron; rather, it was Fred, his older brother standing in front of the merrily crackling fire, who was currently looking around himself, adjusting to his surroundings. "Nice little flat you have here."

"Thanks," Hermione said, her voice a little shaky. "What are you doing here?"

"Yeah, that," Fred answered. "Well, earlier today, my git of a brother came up to me, said you two had broken up and asked if I was kind enough to come over here and gather his belongings for him. I told him to bugger off and try solving his problems by himself, but he wouldn't leave me alone, so now, I'm here."

That part of the story wasn't shocking to Hermione. She knew how dependable Ron could be in certain situations—it was part of why they decided to part ways. She had always been more independent, and her decisions almost always mattered more when it came to their relationships.

What was shocking was that his brother actually took it upon himself to come over in Ron's place.

"Couldn't you come a bit earlier, though?" was what Hermione said finally. "I mean, it's already dusk, and packing up is something that could take hours to finish."

Fred shrugged. "I didn't know if you were home yet. So, where do you keep Ron's stuff?"

"Well, there's the bedroom…" Hermione started, going through the map of the apartment in her head.

"But you would rather go through that alone, I'm guessing?" interrupted Fred.

Moments of thoughtful silence followed before Hermione took a breath and replied. "No, it's fine. It's not like it's a sacred place or anything." As per stress on her words, she forced a weak smile on her face.

It was all for the better, she thought to herself. If anything, this should help in moving on.

~oOo~

"Hey, Fred," Hermione said while rummaging through a chest in her bedroom, "do you think I'm too bossy?"

"Why, yes, you are," he answered. "Why'd you ask?"

"Just curious," said Hermione, trying to suppress a painful sigh that was threatening to burst out of her. "And do you think it's a bad thing?" she continued while throwing an oversized shirt on the top of the pile the two of them had gathered.

The redhead shrugged. "Depends, really. I mean, if somebody doesn't have any problems with being bossed around…"

"So, otherwise, should I just try to get rid of… being bossy?" Hermione asked.

"Only if you want to," Fred said. "But don't take my word for it; I'm crap when it comes to emotional talk. Say, why are you telling me this?"

"I don't really know," said Hermione, plopping down onto the bed as soon as she emptied the drawer on its left. "I suppose it's because I want to know why I failed in this relationship. I mean, I could talk to Harry about it, but he takes Ron's side most of the time. I need somebody impartial to tell me what's wrong because I can't for the life of me figure it out."

"Wait, who said you were the one who failed?" Fred furrowed his eyebrows.

"I can only assume I did," Hermione said, her voice hollow. She didn't receive an answer for a worryingly long time, and before long, she convinced herself that Fred had left the room. Then, somebody—Fred—plopped down onto the mattress beside her, and put his arm around her shoulder.

"Dear Hermione," he began. "Let me present you: 'Reasons why Hermione Granger is not at fault for breaking up with Ronald Weasley.' First of all, because he's a git. Second of all, because he's a git."

Hermione cracked the smallest of smiles.

"Third of all," Fred continued, not at all fazed by the brunette's reaction, "because it doesn't worth searching for people to blame after break-ups. Imagine, if I was to blame everyone whom I've ever dated…" Fred's made a face of nothing less than horror. "No, don't imagine that. Anyway. Fourth of all, if it didn't work out, then what?"

"Well, I really thought this was something special, and-" Hermione said, but was interrupted by the redhead.

"That's not how it works," he said, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. "Come on, Hermione. Not all relationships end up in a happily-ever-after marriage with a bunch of kids and early retirement. You gotta liven up a little, you know."

Hermione sighed. "I'm always so stuck up, I know," she said, bitterness dripping from her tone.

"And you seem to have a severe case of self-underestimation too," said Fred, pointing at Hermione with the hand that wasn't hanging over the girl's shoulder. "Come on, don't look at me like I've just hit you with a Bat-Bogey Hex! I have the perfect solution for your problem."

"And what is it?" asked Hermione. If she was going to be honest, she was feeling at an all-time low. She knew herself well, she supposed, but it was painful when somebody else made her reflect on all of her flaws. Reflecting on her own negativities wounded her Gryffindor pride, no matter how much she hated to admit it, which was rather ironic if she thought about it. She had always been against the very existence of blissful ignorance, but when it came down to herself, she'd turn a blind eye to a few things. How controversial.

"How about this?" the redhead asked, then pressed his lips onto Hermione's all of a sudden.

It was then, that Hermione decided not to wallow in her self-destruction. After all, that could always wait for another day.


	53. 53: Rumour Mill

**A/N: I realised that it's kinda hard to write 11-year-old children because I have no idea how they behave (even though I have a 12-year-old brother). It's just been so long since I was 11. So, yeah.**

 **Word count: 525**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : Music History Assignment #1 – Texture task: Write a story which consists entirely of dialogue.

* * *

"Have you heard the news?"

"What news, Pansy?"

"Harry Potter is starting his first year at Hogwarts, just like us. What do you think he'll be like?"

"I certainly hope he's sorted into Slytherin. It would do a lot of good for our reputation."

"Didn't your father ask you to make friends with him?"

"He did. That's why he should be a Slytherin, like us. Imagine, what if I had to make friends with one of those idiot Gryffindors? Impossible."

"I've heard that he lives between Muggles."

"Who? Harry Potter?"

"Yes. His parents died, so he lives with some Muggle relatives or something. Father told me he did."

"Why would anybody want him to live with Muggles? That's just disgusting. I mean, of all people, The Boy-Who-Lived should set an example by not mingling with mud."

"It must have been… Dumbledore, right? The Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"Yes. Father says that he's just a senile old man that should already have retired. Father told me he was a Gryffindor, too. No wonder why my father always campaigns against him in the Ministry."

"And he's the Headmaster?"

"Yes, Pansy, he is. How many times do I have to tell you? Of course, everything would be better if my godfather was the Headmaster."

"Your godfather?"

"Yes. He's the Potions professor and Head of Slytherin. Surely, with his and Father's help, Slytherin will win the House Cup. Oh, and of course, the Quidditch Cup too. Sadly, I won't be able to join the team because of that stupid rule that you can try out only starting from second year. Father also said that if I get good grades, I can get a Nimbus 2000 for Christmas. Now, that is a broom I could win the Quidditch Cup with."

"I never understood why Quidditch is so important. It's just a sport."

"You don't understand because you're a girl."

"That's mean. Why are you always so mean to me?"

"I'm not mean. I'm cunning and resourceful, just like a true Slytherin."

"No, you're just mean. You always insult my dresses as well. You did, even on my eleventh birthday."

"What? I told you my opinion on your dress. I don't see how that's mean."

"You told me I look like a toad!"

"Because you did."

"But you can't just barge in and tell me I look like a toad on my own birthday! That's not how a Pureblood is supposed to behave. What would your father say about this if I told him?"

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

"Okay, what do you want me to do? Apologise?"

"Yeah, maybe."

"Malfoys don't apologise."

"Then, I'm telling my father about you, who will then tell it to your father. How about that?"

"No, that's mean."

"It's just cunning and resourceful, _like a true Slytherin_. Isn't that right?"

"Okay, okay. Sorry for calling you a toad. Better?"

"Not really. You have to mean it when you say it."

"But I already apologised! I advise you don't ask for more."

"I hate you so much."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do. Don't talk to me, Draco, until you apologise and mean it. Until then, see you!"


	54. 54: The Only One to Trust

**A/N: Lavender lives AU.** **Obvs. Actually, it very well could be a Muggle AU as well. But go ahead and suppose it isn't. It's not that important anyway. Enjoy.**

 **Word count: 562**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** DADA Assignment #1/Task 2 – Write about trust between two people. (extra prompt used: (word) breathe)

 **Ultimate Chocolate Frog Card Club** : (Bronze) Glover Hipworth – challenge – Write about someone cheering up another person.

* * *

That particular Saturday was supposed to be a leisure day for Parvati Patil. Having worked for five weekdays straight beforehand, the young witch had decided that a day of rest was in line for her, and, admittedly, there was no better time to sleep in than on a Saturday.

She did not, however, expected a half-sobbing, half-shouting Lavender Brown to barge into her room at 8 AM sharp without any notice.

"Parvati, we have to talk!" the brunette said, grabbing a nearby pillow from a couch and hurling it at Parvati.

"Couldn't it have waited for, I don't know, at least three hours?" came Parvati's muffled voice from beneath her duvet.

"No! We have to talk now!" Lavender insisted, then lowered her voice somewhat when she saw no signs of waking up from her best friend. "Look, it's very important, and I have to tell someone before I go batshit crazy, okay?"

Parvati sighed, then pushed herself up into a sitting position. "Okay," she said, yawning and stretching in the process.

"So," Lavender started as she plopped down onto the sheets beside Parvati, "I had an appointment today at St Mungo's."

"Ah, yes, that. Now that you mention it, I remember you telling me about something like that. What was it about?"

Taking a deep breath, Lavender ran a hand through her thick, blonde hair before muttering. "I'm pregnant."

Parvati could almost feel Lavender's breathing as it evened out.

"Pregnant? But… Oh," was all Parvati could muster before a silence so thick fell at the room, one could almost cut it with a knife. "Do you know who the father is?"

"I do have a brief idea, mind you," Lavender said, "but I'm not a hundred percent sure. I think it's either one of two people, but I'm afraid of telling anyone else. Other than you, that is. You're the only one I can trust you with this, right now."

Parvati was flabbergasted, to say at least, but more importantly, she had an urgent need to liven her best friend up. After all, it was what she was there for.

"Look, Lav, you're going to get through this," she said, "so there's no point in looking like you just got a T in Divination. You're going to be okay, and I'm going to be there for you, okay?" There really was no point in asking about the details; for the most part, Parvati already knew what had happened anyway.

"Thanks," she said, a hint of a hollow smile on her lips. "I'm just… How am I going to raise a child alone? Let alone at nineteen years old?"

"Who knows? Maybe we can find the father." Parvati shrugged. "But even if we don't, you still have a lot of support behind you. Say, your family."

"I don't think they would understand. Hell, they may go ahead and tell me I'm a disgrace and then disown me or something," Lavender said. "As I said, I can only trust you with this."

"You can't know for sure until you tell them yourself. Where's your Gryffindor courage, Lav?"

"It went down the gutter the moment Dr Green told me I was having a baby growing in my stomach," Lavender answered.

"Either way," Parvati said, "don't be discouraged. Trust me."

"I do," Lavender said, that faint smile of hers appearing again. "We're best friends, after all."


	55. 55: Bitter

**A/N: This is crap and I know it. Yay. Enjoy.**

 **Word count: 630**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : Astronomy Assignment #1 – Write about a character being overshadowed (extra prompt used: (word) neglected)

 **Ultimate Chocolate Frog Card Club** : (Bonus) Roxanne Weasley – Write about Roxanne Weasley.

* * *

Always remaining in the shadow of her brother's constant success was never between Roxanne Weasley's plans. Not that she was not proud of Fred, per se. It just… Not being able to do anything even remotely outstanding was underwhelming. Or, rather, not being able to do something noticeable.

Or, maybe, she was just overreacting because she wasn't anything more than an average Hogwarts student with average grades, average friends, and an overall average life. What a shame. Nevertheless, Roxanne Weasley often felt as if she had been abandoned—for the most part, by her family. Neglected, more like. She had heard of all those stories, where the second child is always in the centre of attention, and the older sibling feels left out and alone, and somehow, she could relate to it. She could, as it was the same situation, but in reverse.

Harsh is what she called it. Being average in everything she did, that is. Maybe even unfair, too. After all, she tried; she tried, possibly harder than Fred to be better, to have better grades, to be a good Quidditch player, and to be a popular person, but it seemed like some kind of unknown deity decided that she was not worth the same praise for trying. Participation prize was invented for these kinds of people, after all.

And so, Roxanne lived her life with a constant bitter taste in her mouth, watching her brother from afar. That is, until she heard a knock on her door one day, in the summer after her 4th year.

"Roxanne!" a voice came from the other side of the entrance, which the girl recognised as Fred's.

"Come in," she said, her voice resigned. She had been writing her diary up until then, and Merlin, she wanted to continue, but a nagging voice in the back of her head told her it was more important to let her brother in. So, she did.

"Hey, Roxie," Fred started as soon as he closed the bedroom door behind himself, "I need your help."

"My help?" Roxanne replied. She did not expect him to come forward with anything of the kind—not to her, at least. "What could you possibly need my assistance with?"

"You see, I have this assignment I need to finish, and I have no idea where to start," Fred said.

"Why don't you ask Mum, then? Or Aunt Hermione? They certainly know the subject better than me." Roxanne shook her head.

"It's not that," her brother said. "What I need is your imagination and creativity, the one you use when you write something. The creativity you inherited from Dad."

"But I'm not creative," Roxanne said. "I can't make pretty things, like paintings or drawings, I just write down whatever comes to mind. Besides, how do you even know about my writings?"

Fred's cheeks reddened in an instant, his voice becoming shier. "I was searching for one of your textbooks, and I accidentally knocked one of your notebooks down. It was opened in the middle of a story of yours. I read it, and I think it was nice."

"Nice?"

"Yes, nice. I liked the backstory you'd given to the main character, with her struggles as a kid, and uh… yeah, it was just nice. Sorry, I'm not that good with evaluating literature," Fred said.

"No, it's okay," Roxanne replied. "It's just surprising. You had always been better than me in everything, so it's hard to believe that I'd have something you didn't."

"Nobody's perfect, Roxie," Fred said, squeezing his sister's shoulder in a reassuring manner. "And certainly not me. But um, are you still going to help me with my assignment?"

"After you answer why did you have the need to sneak into my room and steal my textbook, sure."


	56. 56: Baby Issues

**A/N: Because it's been long since I last tried this pairing and I have a certain liking for it. Enjoy.**

 **Word count: 581**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : DADA Assignment #2/Task 1 – Write about a minor issue in a relationship, such as a minor fight or a difference in opinions (extra prompt used (colour) white).

* * *

"No, Ron, we're not naming it Jennifer or Chris," said a very sceptical Pansy, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. "We've been through this once already, I believe. I refuse to give my baby such a simplistic name."

The redheaded man, who had just finished painting the walls a pale, almost yellowy shade of white, turned around to face his wife while he wiped his forearm across his face.

"Why, what do _you_ want to name it?" he said, tiredness and a hint of annoyance lacing his tone.

"Oh, I was thinking something like Priscilla, or Fabius," Pansy replied, her gaze softening somewhat. "I've always wanted an Ancient Roman name for my child."

"No way." Ron shook his head with the fierceness he showed so often. "I can already imagine their future classmates picking on them just because of their fancy name that nobody ever heard about."

"These are traditional Pureblood names, Ron! You can't just go around, naming your kid after whatever name you first see in the Daily Prophet! It's more important than that," came the answer from the woman.

"Don't give me that Pureblood crap again. Look, I married you because I thought… You said yourself that you were done with that kind of lifestyle, and now you're back at it again? Geez, pregnancy really makes you women harpies from time to time," Ron replied, the annoyance in his words getting clearer by the moment.

"That's not what I mean. But by all means, do try to twist my words and accuse me of being an old-fashioned and supremacist swot, though," the woman lifted her gaze to meet her husband's, and as she did so, a sudden rush of cold went down Ron's spine. It wasn't often that he would get this look—this condescending, almost emotionless stare—but when he did, he knew he was in for a tremendous amount of trouble.

He opened his mouth to explain, but aside from barely audible, and, for the most part, incomprehensible words, nothing quite solid stumbled out of his mouth. One of his admitted weaknesses was the he could never rebut with the efficacy he wanted to.

"I didn't mean to," was what he managed to say after what seemed like minutes under his wife's questioning gaze. "But we can't name our child Priscilla! I mean, what kind of name is that?"

"It's a pretty name. You know, it could be worse," Pansy said, a look of mild disdain still etched onto her face.

"Worse?! How is that possible?" Ron looked as if he had just been told that the Chudley Cannons were kicked from the Quidditch League because of their continuous bad performance.

"You really don't like the name, do you?" said Pansy, her voice losing the sharp edge it had beforehand.

"Well, yeah, I thought that was obvious," her husband replied.

"Okay, then we won't name them Priscilla. But, just for the record, it won't be Jennifer, either."

"Whatever." Ron rolled his eyes.

"Why, do you have any other ideas? The next time, you better run it by me before considering the question answered," Pansy said, her lips pursed and her arms crossed over the white fabric of her dress.

"You know what? Can we, like, forget about this issue for now? We still have about… How much, exactly?" said Ron.

"Five months, you moron."

"Five months. Besides… I think I bought the wrong paint for the baby room."

Pansy let out a tired sigh.


	57. 57: Ice Queen

**A/N: Aaaaaand another chapter of "What crap Sophie writes when she's tired and can't think normally!" Enjoy.**

 **Word count: 570**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : Astronomy Assignment #2 – Write about someone pretty with a terrible personality.

* * *

Picking her nails with an expression of utter disinterest on her face, Daphne leant back in the forest green armchair of the Slytherin Common Room. Sitting across her was her so-called 'best friend,' Tracey Davis—although, she merely cared about her so much that she wasn't annoyed by her mere existence and her overly cheerful attitude. Overly cheerful—for a Slytherin, that is. At least, that's how Daphne deemed.

She should have been sorted into Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, the sentence rang through her mind ever so often, like your shame of a sister was.

"Are you listening, Daphne?" Tracey snapped her fingers in front of the Greengrass girl's face. "I got something very important to tell you."

"Yeah, sure," Daphne replied, forcing her voice to be a pitch higher and faster than usual. Masking her apathy had become a certain kind of routine for her in the past few years. 2What was it again?"

"So, as I said…" Tracey began, but two seconds into her speech, Daphne's mind clicked into ignore mode. She could pretend to listen, but she never deemed it her duty to actually listen to what her friend was trying to say.

It wasn't really that she was trying to be cold and condescending towards everyone; it was merely that she wasn't all that interested in other people. After all, reaching the top of the ladder was only possible if there was nobody to hold her back. This 'loner wolf' mentality was taught to her by her father, and it began way before her Hogwarts days. Nowadays, it was only natural for her to act distant.

The number of requests she would receive for Hogsmeade weekends was somewhat disconcerting, though. She never cared for any of them because she simply wasn't interested in people she didn't deem worthy, but it did trouble her to an extent. She did look pretty, but all those boys asking her really should have learned by now that she wasn't going to accept their invitation.

"So, what do you think?" Tracey finished her story, her face beaming. "I thought I could never do it. I mean, I've never been good at these sorts of things, but… Daphne?"

"Yeah, that's good news," she said, forcing a pleasant smile onto her face. "I'm happy for you."

"Thanks," Tracey said. "So, what are plans for the next Hogsmeade weekend?"

"I don't think I'm going," Daphne replied, letting her cheery façade drop for a second. "I mean, I've already seen the village a couple of times before. Nothing new to see there."

"Aw, but it's fun!" Tracey said, leaning forward in her chair. "Aaand, there will be a flurry of cute guys coming as well."

Daphne closed her eyes for a second, searching for an excuse she could use to let Tracey leave her alone, scoffing in annoyance inwardly. "I think I'll pass. I have a couple of assignments to finish, and I've been feeling unwell lately. Speaking of which, aren't you tired yet? It is past eleven, after all."

"A bit," Tracey admitted, biting her lower lip. "But, I'm not giving up on this Hogsmeade weekend yet!"

"Whatever you say." Daphne dabbed, not putting effort in hiding her exasperation. "Either way, I'm going to go and call it a day. Good night."

And with that, she pulled out of her chair and towards the dorms. At least there, she would have her peace of mind.


	58. 58: Consequences

**A/N: Wrote this in a span of three hours. I have no imagination. Enjoy.**

 **Word count: 1555**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : DADA OWL #1 – Route #2: Write about someone who hasn't prepared enough, or hasn't prepared at all. Again, this could be anything, as long as it fills the requirement. The lack of preparation needs to negatively affect your character in some way. (chosen character: Padma Patil, extra prompts: (word) schedule, (emotion) fear)

* * *

Padma woke up to the chime of the clock on the wall. Groaning as she stretched her arms, she stole a glance at the window, catching a view of the sunrise before she yawned and tore her eyes away. Sitting up, she reached for the calendar, which was half-dangling off her drawer, a quill perched on the top.

Her eyes having adjusted to the dim light, Padma glanced at the date, but as soon as she did, her eyes widened in horror, her hand letting the calendar drop onto her lap. Her lip trembled.

On the paper, a note was scribbled with red letters and a couple of exclamation marks for effect. Tracey's trial, it said.

Padma leant back on the bed, shutting her eyes for a moment. She forgot. She forgot about the trial. Her friend's trial, where she was supposed to be a witness for her. During the last few weeks, it had come to the surface of her consciousness a couple of times, but she had always been preoccupied when it happened. Talk about inconvenient timing.

Still, she was supposed to be prepared for this; she was supposed to have a testimony written, B and C plans in case something went haywire, and a full schedule of how everything was supposed to go down. Instead, here she was, on the day of the trial, with one sheet of paper lying alone on top of her drawer, a hastily scribbled outline of her testimony written on it. That was all she had.

Letting out another groan, Padma pushed herself up from her bed, grabbed the piece of paper from her drawer, and made her way towards her wardrobe.

After all, there was nothing she could do about the situation now, was there?

Cursing herself for not only being forgetful, but possibly sealing her friend's fate with her own laziness—which was very un-Ravenclaw of her, and she had always thought of it as a weakness she had never been able to overcome—as well.

Looking down at the paper in her hands, then at the clock again, Padma sighed. She had a bit of time before she had to head over to the Ministry; so, if she finished her usual morning routine speedily, she would be able to scrape a solid defence together. Hopefully.

~oOo~

Walking down the hallway of the Department of Mysteries, Padma felt an unfamiliar feeling of dread engulfing her, icy fear washing over her so much that it made her shudder. A pang of guilt partnered to this anxiety, and Padma did have a faint idea as to why.

In the distance, she could make out a couple of figures huddled in front of what seemed to be the courtroom, so she picked up her pace somewhat, and, gripping her notes in her hand, she headed towards the group of people.

After reaching the entrance to the courtroom, Padma scanned the crowd until her eyes found the brunette girl she had been looking for. Tracey.

The girl didn't seem to be bothered by the heavy air as much as Padma did—in fact, she wore a calm expression on her face, with the faintest hint of a smile. If she didn't know any better, Padma would have been fooled by that look. Alas, she knew how good the former Slytherin was in hiding her emotions.

Approaching the brunette carefully, Padma tried to ease her nerves by once again going over what she had planned out on that very morning. It will be okay, she told herself over and over again, much like a mantra, as she stopped right in front of Tracey.

"Hi, Tracey," she said, hugging the brunette tight as a greeting.

"Hi, Padma," Tracey replied, that familiar faint of smile growing with every passing moment. "I was worried you wouldn't make it in time. Some Auror just came and told us we'd be having the trial early, so we're starting in about five minutes."

Padma had to hold back a cringe upon hearing her friend's words. She was already underprepared, but now, she had borderline no time to gather her thoughts before putting them into action.

"That's… not good news," she mumbled, averting her gaze from her friend.

"I would have liked to have more time for preparation, too, but I guess it can't be helped." Tracey shook her head. "Look, I trust you to help me out. You're the wittiest person I know, so if you can't help me, who can?"

"Yeah," Padma said, her voice distant, almost hollow.

"Hey, it's going to be okay," Tracey squeezed Padma's hand. "You know, if you, the witness, are more worried than I am, then how do you expect this trial to go?"

"Not well, I'd assume," Padma said, shaking her head to gain some of her posture back. "Okay. Everything's going to be fine. I'm just a bit tired."

"Understandable." Tracey nodded, then pointed at the door—the entrance to the courtroom—which had previously been closed. "Look, the Aurors are opening the doors. It's time to start."

"Yeah." Padma nodded absentmindedly. "Good luck," she said, willing herself to focus on the task in front of her. Prove that Tracey had no involvement in any Death Eater business. Prove her innocence, and save her from Azkaban.

"You know that I'm innocent, right?" Tracey said as she grabbed Padma's arm once again. Padma merely nodded. "Well, then you should testify based on that. As long as you believe, it should be fine."

Padma pulled her friend into another hug, trying to channel whatever energy that could help her with the embrace.

Despite everything, at the very least, she would try.

Because as long as she believed, everything would be fine.

~oOo~

"I hereby declare Tracey Davis guilty of activity directly connected to Death Eaters," the voice of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement rang throughout the room. Padma slumped in her chair, trying to force the sob that was threatening to burst from her otherwise dry throat. She bit her lip, averting her gaze from the brunette sitting in the defendant's chair. She could not bare to look at her right now.

Once again, the pang of guilt from before bubbled up in her chest, twisting and pulling on her heart. Before her depressive thoughts engulfed her, however, the door to the hall flew open, revealing two Aurors who were headed towards Tracey.

As soon as they reached her, the two Aurors grabbed Tracey by the shoulders, cast a spell that Padma vaguely recognised as some kind of advanced Binding Spell, and turned to lead the girl away.

"No!" Padma blurted out without thinking, standing up from her seat. Right after she did, however, her hands flew to her mouth as per an instinct. As one of the Aurors looked up at her with raised eyebrows, she took her seat again, directing her gaze at Tracey. The brunette had her eyes fixated on her, pleading silently for Padma to do something. It was already too late, Padma thought.

She sighed and shook her head. She could feel Tracey's eyes as they burned her, those striking grey eyes laced she came to know so well during the last couple of years laced with disappointment and something else, something darker. Betrayal.

Padma wanted to speak up. She wanted to turn back time, prepare more thoroughly; she wanted to erase the mistakes she made during the trial: her stammering, her contradictory statements, and the way her initial hope slipped away inch by inch, minute by minute.

However, her inhibitions stopped her. She was not a Gryffindor; she was not brave. She was not strong enough to stand up against the voice of many others, so her gaze remained fixated on her hands as she heard the protests of her friend—ex-friend, by now—as Tracey was dragged away.

It was not that she didn't believe—she knew well that the brunette had nothing to do with the whole Death Eater business—it was that during the trial, her own anxiety kept pulling her deeper and deeper, caused by her being underprepared, and thus reducing her into a mess.

After Tracey was escorted out by the Aurors, Padma remained sitting in her seat, completely frozen both by shock and a sudden, sinking feeling of fear. She knew Tracey would be locked up in Azkaban soon, but she didn't know what horrible things awaited the brunette there. She was only sentenced to two months, but would she come out okay? Would she come out alive?

Suddenly, Padma felt like suffocating. She had to get away from this place; she had to forget about what happened. Before she knew what was happening, she was running out of the courtroom and back to the elevator that would take her back to the Atrium.

It was a cowardly thing to do, but Padma didn't know what else could be done. Her wits failed her, and as soon as she stepped out of her fireplace, she was left a sobbing mess on her bed.

She knew being lazy would come to bite her back in the arse someday—she really did. But she had to face the fact that even though it was anticipated, the reality of the situation was always harsher than her imagination.


	59. 59: An Unlikely Future

**A/N: I've only read the first five scenes of Cursed Child, so don't mock my headcanons. Don't mock my headcanons either way (I change most of them often anyway). And Scorpius is a little bundle of amazingness, so don't take Lily's words seriously. Also, no conflict ayy**

 **Enjoy.**

 **Word count: 1,026**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** Astronomy OWL #1 – Mercury task: Write about two people, despite being exact opposites, have a bond. Whether it's romantic or platonic bond is up to you. Alternatively, write about two people who can't be friends anymore. (extra prompts: (era) Next-gen, (restriction) must take place during their last year of Hogwarts, and they must talk about what they want to do when they graduate, (word) unlikely)

* * *

"Lily, wait!" came a voice from the other end of the corridor. Lily Luna Potter, who had been storming through the hallways to reach the Ravenclaw common room, stopped abruptly upon hearing the familiar shout. So much so, that some kid from Gryffindor, who Lily vaguely remembered as that one Quidditch maniac who always came asking for an autograph from James, bumped into her. He ended up sprawled on the hallway, his quills and textbooks lying on the ground in a complete and utter mess.

Lily, sighing in annoyance, helped the boy up before hurrying away in the other direction, to where she thought her friend, Patricia Parkinson, would be. As soon as she reached the entrance of the Transfigurations classroom, she caught a glimpse of the Slytherin girl, tapping her foot impatiently.

"What took you so long?" she asked without even glancing at Lily.

"A Gryffindor boy had run into me, so I thought I'd help him out." Lily shrugged.

"Why?" Patricia furrowed her eyebrows, then dabbed when she saw her friend opening her mouth to protest. "Don't even bother. If I couldn't convince you to sort your priorities in the past seven years, it would be futile to try now."

"Sometimes, I really do hate you," Lily said, fidgeting with her blue-bronze-coloured tie instead of looking at her friend. To that, Patricia let out a good-natured laugh. "So, what is it that you wanted?"

"I need you to lend me a hand," Patricia said. "Mother sent me a letter the other day, and she told me I would get an offer at the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, but only if I submit a resume. A resume. What even is that?"

"It's a Muggle invention," Lily said. "It basically lists your professions and experience in the field. Aunt Hermione told me they implemented the idea a few years ago, so you need them to apply if you want to work in the Ministry."

Patricia mumbled a few incoherent words—Lily had a faint idea as to what it could have been. Her friend was never afraid to voice her opinion—unlike herself, which she both admired and damned Patricia for. The two of them were vastly different; they came from different families, were in different houses, and they had different aspirations. And yet, somehow, the unlikely friendship they formed in their first year never faltered.

"Of course, you don't have to worry about that," Patricia continued, "since you want to be a freelance journalist."

"Well, maybe you should try becoming a writer yourself," Lily offered with a kind smile.

"If only." Patricia rolled her eyes, grabbing the other girl's arm and pulling her towards the staircase that Lily knew would lead them down to the dungeons. "Now, come on. I need to have that resume thing done before our NEWTs start. You know how Mother is if I don't do what she says."

Lily did know. During the few times she had visited the Parkinson household, she had gained experience with Patricia's mother, Pansy. Lily thought she was a bit too strict when it came to her daughter's future, but at least she wasn't as pretentious as the Malfoy kid. Lily swore Albus had the worst taste when it came to choosing boyfriends.

At the very least, she was glad her parents were more free-spirited, albeit sometimes overprotective.

~oOo~

"So, how are you and Lorcan?" Patricia said as she leant back on her bunk bed after she decided that writing a resume could wait another day. A blush crept onto Lily's face, and she fixed her gaze on her shoes.

"We're… fine, I guess," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Fine? Only fine? No, that's not satisfying." Patricia shook her head. "What are your plans? Will you, like, move in together after graduation, or something?"

"Move in together?" Lily squeaked. "We really haven't talked about that. I mean, I have no idea where I'm going to stay, but…"

"Maybe we could find a flat together? The two of us?" Patricia mused, plopping her head onto her pillow. "I don't really want to go back to my parents', so I was thinking of renting a flat by myself. Do you know how lonely that would be, though?"

"I can only imagine," Lily replied.

"Well, I don't have a boyfriend to move in with," Patricia continued as if she hadn't heard Lily at all, "so either that, or… I don't know."

"I think it's a bit sad," Lily blurted out. "I mean, that we have to search for a new home. It reminds me that Hogwarts is almost over."

"Yeah, I've heard that before." Patricia nodded. "They say it signals the end of our childhood, that we've grown up… But you have two older brothers who have already graduated, so you'd know how it feels, right? Well, at least in passing, that is."

"Maybe, but it's still surreal," Lily answered. "So, have you finished your last Ancient Runes assignment?"

Patricia groaned.

"Thought so." Lily tried to suppress a giggle that was threatening to burst. "Do you need help with it?"

"No, I'll get it done," Patricia said, "just not today. Besides, you have your own work to do. Tell me, how are you doing with your Potions assignment?"

It was Lily's turn to groan. "I don't even need Potions for my career. I'm starting to question why I should bother."

"Because you've been among the best in our year ever since you stepped inside the school. Your aunt would be proud of you." Patricia smirked. It held no malicious intent, but Lily knew how much she liked to mock Lily with her family and her family's fame.

"Fine. You know I would do it anyway," Lily said, and saw her friend nodding furiously. "Besides, I think I should go. I promised Lorcan we would meet today, and it's almost curfew already."

"Okay, but you're still going to help me with that resume thing, right?" Patricia said, pushing herself into a sitting position.

"Yeah, just don't forget to remind me." Lily shrugged. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." Patricia nodded, then returned the hug Lily was giving her.


	60. 60: Had to Learn This Way

**A/N: I originally was going to use an OC here, but then I thought the better of it. Either way, thanks to Queen Bookworm the First and isaacswolfsbane for helping me. You guys are my saviours.**

 **Also, it seems I'm playing the guilt game today. I think this story is a mess, if you can even call it a story. Enjoy.**

 **Word count: 665**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : Potions Assignment #3 - Your task is to write about bitter revelations, like finding out you are adopted or that your long time spouse is cheating. Alternately, write about a sad revelation, someone is sick or you have fallen out of love with someone. (extra prompt used: (word) coffee)

* * *

Charlie Weasley was sitting in his comfy couch, sipping from his cup of coffee. It had been an exhausting day, but even more so, he couldn't help the anxiety that was building up inside him.

It had been three weeks since he last received anything from his family, back in Britain. He knew they were in the middle of a war—and he would have gone back gladly if it wasn't for the sudden absences of some of his co-workers. He was ordered to stay back because it was impossible to operate the dragon reserve with the majority of the trainers missing.

He had also been told that sending owls were dangerous, and that he shouldn't expect news from home often. Still, he was worried. If something was to happen to his family and friends who stayed, he wouldn't know about it. The thought scared him if he was being honest with himself.

His train of thought was interrupted by a knock on his window. Charlie whipped his head around, noticing the owl that was sitting on the outer part of the windowsill, a neat-looking letter tied to its right leg. Charlie made his way over to the window with coffee still in hand, opened it, and, after a bit of fumbling, untied the letter. The owl didn't wait for an answer; it let out a hoot and as soon as it came, it was already gone.

Charlie, not bothering to look at the sender, ripped the envelope open, and smoothed out the piece of parchment, eager to read it as soon as possible.

 _Hey, Charlie,_ the letter began.

 _This letter is going to be vague, but all of us are pretty preoccupied right now. I have both good and bad news, so let's start with the good._

 _The War is over, and thank Merlin, most of us are fine. The Ministry and Hogwarts is under serious renovations as of right now, but we're hoping to finish most of it by September. All the Floo, Apparition, and owl restrictions are lifted, too, so we can talk anytime, if you want._

 _The bad news is… Fred is dead. He was killed in the Battle. Yeah, I'll tell you about the Battle later as well. Either way... We're not sure when the funeral will be, but I'd not bother Mum about it, if I were you. It's pretty grim in the Burrow nowadays._

 _I'm sorry you had to learn about it this way. I wish I could talk to you in person, but I barely got five minutes to write this letter._

 _Though, if you do plan on coming back, don't hesitate to tell me. You can always talk to me._

 _Cheers,_

Bill

The letter, as soon as Charlie's eyes skimmed over the last few lines, fell unceremoniously from his hands, as did the cup of coffee he didn't realise he had been holding. And with them fell Charlie into a pit of guilt as a strange mixture of happiness, grief, and yearning washed over him.

He should've been there, he thought. It wouldn't have happened if he was there.

In hindsight, he felt… bittersweet. His family was finally safe, and yet, he couldn't entirely feel happy. Not when his brother died. He supposed it didn't fully hit him yet, but the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes said otherwise.

And in this ambiguous state of mind, Charlie had no idea what to do. He was now slumped down, his back against the wall, staring at the letter with a certain empty feeling in his stomach.

His head ached. There were so many emotions crammed inside, all of them fighting for dominance: sadness, grief, emptiness, bitterness, and the hint of guilt that he was sure to nag him for a long time to come.

Charlie had no idea what to do, how to reply. So, he did the only thing that seemed rational: he let out a strangled sob and let the tears fall.


	61. 61: Expectations

**A/N: I almost never write Ron, mostly because of my indifference towards him. But you know, when I have an idea for a character study, then nothing is stopping me.**

 **Word count: 630**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** Charms Assignment #4 – Write about somebody who feels as if they're being suffocated.

 **2016 Multi-School Tournament:** Mahoutokoro School of Magic – (object) Quidditch robes

* * *

Expectations.

Ron Weasley had to live up to expectations, which always burdened him with the kind of responsibility he never wanted, responsibility that crushed him more than it helped him. These were the kinds of things he was never able to conquer, even though he—according to himself—was trying as hard as he could.

Yes, he would get lazy from time to time, but in his mind, it was more exhaustion than lack of trying. After all, how was he supposed to live up to the expectations—expectations of his parents, of his brothers, of his friends, and everybody else who surrounded him—if he didn't work for it?

Problem was, he never found any of his trying effective. Maybe it was a lack of eloquence on his part, or, maybe, it was just how it was destined to be—Ron didn't really know. Not that he was often preoccupied with such philosophical problems, per se, but in retrospect, it definitely wouldn't have hurt to know what the reason was behind his constant failures.

But above anything else, Ron Weasley found his current state of being ironic. He was currently sitting in the Gryffindor Changing Room, just having finished the try-outs for the team's Keeper position. It hadn't been an utter failure like he had foreseen, but admittedly, he couldn't bring his best form, which cost him a lot.

Desperately trying to find the point where he broke during the trial, Ron hung his head, his hand swiping across his face in a harsh motion, so as to stop the first tear from rolling down his cheek. If one tear was set free, another would soon follow. And then another. And another, followed by a lot more. At least, Ron could faintly remember Hermione telling him about something like that.

The worst part of it wasn't that he failed everyone's expectations again, though. More than anything else, it hurt him that he failed at something he was actually interested in—unlike Divination.

All of it felt like being asphyxiated. Because of the expectations that pulled him under over and over again, too, but most of all, because of the endless spiral that these failures seemed to be. With no way out, of course. It felt kind of like an endless tunnel of darkness, except, it didn't only lack light, it also lacked oxygen.

And so, Ron kept sitting there, on a bench in the shadowy corner of the changing room, his dirty Quidditch robes weighing him down, while the cheerful noises of celebration seeped through the walls. That—the lively cheers on the outside, that is—made this choking sensation he was having even worse.

Of all things, in that moment, Ron started to wonder why the walls weren't made soundproof with an easy charm. Then, with a heavy sigh, he pulled himself up from the bench, turned around, and punched the wall. He still felt like choking, but it lifted part of the pressure that had been suffocating him until that point. So, coming to the logical conclusion that hitting the wall would help his mood somewhat, he punched it again. Ron heard his knuckles crack in a sickly fashion, and, pain shooting through his hand, he hissed.

Seems like he would have to pay a visit to Madam Pomfrey later on. Nevertheless, it was worth it on his part. After all, if he can't punch anything—or anyone—else, the wall would still be his best bet.

With that, he pulled away from the bench and looked down at his robes. They were still dirty, and it started to make him feel uncomfortable. With a shake of a head, Ron lifted his head and headed towards the shower.

There was nothing to do about now, was there?


	62. 62: Raspberry Tea

**A/N: I honestly thought I had a great idea for this, but then, it just turned out flat. That's what happens when you leave everything to the last minute.**

 **Word count: 542**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** Transfigurations Assignment #4 – Write about a character who is uptight, and about a way in which they might relax. (extra prompt used: (character) Theo Nott)

* * *

Padma Patil had always loved tea time. It was, in her mind, her only chance to relax in between other matters she needed to attend to.

She oftentimes hated herself for it, but it was simply impossible for her to relax otherwise. Constantly being on the edge was something she had gotten used to—deadlines, homework, meetings, and other nonsense… No matter how much she tried to let go of all expectations, she never succeeded; her responsibilities and obligations always remained lingering in a shadowy corner of her mind, nagging her in a constant fashion.

And that was precisely why she felt a certain kind of fury bubbling up in her chest when somebody knocked on her flat's entrance, disturbing her only chance to have a peace of mind.

Sighing, she placed her cup of raspberry tea—her favourite—on the table, stood up from her comfortable couch, and made her way to the door, her grumbling barely incomprehensible.

In the hallway, just outside the door, stood Theo Nott—her co-worker and long-time friend from her Hogwarts years. He wore his trademark smirk on his face, which didn't help Padma's mood at all.

"What do you want?" she said, narrowing her eyes at the man in front of her.

"Just thought I'd pay you a visit. It's been long, after all," Theo replied.

"Okay, but what do you want?" Padma repeated. Theo wouldn't visit her without a good reason; that much, she knew. "I don't have time for your nonsense."

"Straight to the point, as usual," Theo said. "I see. Well, in that case, I need a favour, and I just remembered that you still owe me one. After all, your position in the Ministry is partly thanks to me."

"Yes, I do remember that, but can't we talk about this later? It's really inconvenient for me right now," Padma said.

"You're always preoccupied, Padma." Theo shook his head. "How about trying to relax from time to time? Your nerve is going to be the end of you someday."

"That's exactly what I was trying to do before you decided to 'pay me a visit'."

"Either way," Theo continued, his attempt at steering the subject obvious, "I need to have this favour done as soon as possible."

Padma let out an exasperated sigh. She knew how persuasive the man in front of her could be; if his mind was set on disturbing her at the worst time possible, all her attempts at resisting it would be futile.

"Fine," she said after a long time had passed. "Come in. Do you want tea?"

"Oh, I see," Theo's smirk grew even wider. "So, is this the relaxation you were talking about? Tea?"

"Raspberry tea, to be exact," Padma corrected. "What about it?"

"I think it's pretty amusing," came the answer from the living room as Padma started preparing her kettle. "I mean, it's strangely mundane for a woman like you."

"By all means, please, do insult my preferences," Padma said. "So, you were talking about a favour."

"Oh, that." Theo nodded. "I want to ask your sister out on a date, and I need your help."

The next moment, Theo heard the kettle drop in the kitchen.

"You what?!" came the shout with it.


	63. 63: Guilt

**A/N: Your daily dose of ambiguity. *wink* Enjoy.**

 **Word count: 530**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : Astronomy Assignment #4 – Write about someone who had an opportunity, but missed it and regretted it. (extra prompt used: (object) letter)

* * *

Draco glanced at the letter sitting on his desk, letting out a sigh after placing his cup of coffee beside himself.

He knew precisely what the letter was—an invitation. Not for a wedding, and not for a Ministry party, like usual, but for a funeral. And that—the fact that it invited him to a funeral—was the exact reason why he hadn't even bothered to rip it open before he let it rot on his desk.

How he wished he hadn't, though. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, so many things he wanted to apologise for, but in the moment of receiving his letter, he had not been able to think of anything else but the overwhelming urge to forget about it, to forget about her.

And he did forget. Not about her, but about her funeral.

His logic was telling him to go and visit her grave anyway, to tell her what he couldn't while she was still alive, but he knew it wouldn't have felt quite right. And with that realisation, a mixture of guilt and regret started bubbling up in his stomach. It wasn't a feeling he was all that familiar with—after all, he had been raised to feel indifferent about anything and everything, but he couldn't help it.

After all, she had been so important, no matter how he looked at it, and no matter how hard it took for him to realise that.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he reached for the letter after what seemed like hours of nothingness. It was awfully late, but it was the least he could do. He felt it would've disgraced her memory if he didn't acknowledge the invitation.

Ripping the envelope open, Draco took out the letter, smoothed it out, and hi eyes began to scan the neatly written letter in an instant.

Reading the letter turned out to be a mistake, however. Memories flooded his mind—memories he did not want to recall in the slightest—making him drop the parchment while burying his head in his hands. It stung.

All he wanted was to forget, so why couldn't he? Why was it so hard to let go of it?

His breathing got harder. Not necessarily because he was on the verge of crying—after all, Malfoys don't cry—but because of the heavy weight that he felt was pulling his heart down, deeper and deeper into a darkness he was acquainted, but not all too familiar with. It was as if he had run about ten kilometres without stopping—everything felt heavy, and everything felt dull.

But even so, he picked the parchment off the ground and kept on reading. It was a promise he made to himself, even though this promise was not worth all that much.

Finally, after finishing the letter, he let the paper fall again. It had been hard to keep himself from collapsing, but the feeling only got worse by the minute, the all too formal words of the invitation ringing in his head, reminding him of this missed opportunity over and over again.

This time, however, he didn't hold the tears back.


	64. 64: Run For Your Life

**A/N: I've been waiting to write a Voldy wins!AU since forever. Enjoy.**

 **Word count: 651**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** DADA Assignment #4 – Write about a single person sacrificing themselves for a group of two or more people (extra prompt used: (character) Neville Longbottom)

* * *

Neville woke up to the face of Cho Chang leaning over him, a worried look on her face. At first, Neville furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, not quite remembering how could the former Ravenclaw have gotten there, but then, it all came back to him.

A group of three—Cho, Seamus Finnigan, and Neville himself—were currently in some kind of cave, which was set up as their camp. They, along with other members of the Light Side, had been on the run ever since You-Know-Who's victory over Harry Potter.

Well, Neville wouldn't really call it a victory, since Harry didn't die, but, he supposed, being comatose is about as good as being dead in the current situation.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Neville had gathered up a small group of people, consisting mostly of former DA members. Luna was there, along with Ginny, Dennis Creevey, Hannah Abbott, and a couple of others. Forming this group and going into hiding with all of them turned out to be a horrible choice on Neville's part, after a group of Snatchers found them. Some were killed on the spot, some were captured, and the rest fled the scene. Neville, for one, grabbed the two people nearest and Apparated away. He wasn't sure where exactly—all memories of the attack were hasty, so he couldn't remember things such as his exact thoughts—but it seemed like the group was safe. For now.

"Thank Merlin. We thought you were dead for a second," Cho said, a sigh of relief escaping her chapped lips. "Next time, don't go climbing trees to scout without consulting us first."

Neville only managed to nod as a response. He felt somewhat dizzy—probably due to his fall—so he didn't to risk passing out again.

"Look, I tried to mend your ankle, but it will take some time to heal," Cho continued, completely unfazed. "It would do well if you didn't move around all that much until it's fully healed."

"Where's Seamus?" Neville asked, as per an afterthought.

Cho shrugged. "Said he was going to get some food. I have no idea what exactly he meant by that, though."

"Oh," was all Neville managed to say. "Sorry for being an inconvenience."

Cho shook her head, sighing. "Don't mention it. As long as nobody attacks us, all will be fine. You know, all of us are feeling drained, even though it's only been, what, two months since the Battle?" Neville noticed the girl wasn't looking at him anymore. Instead, she was gazing at the cold, grey wall of the cave. "Never thought I'd say this, but I miss Hogwarts, and all the normal classes we used to have."

"But you've already graduated, haven't you?" asked Neville.

Cho let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, that year, when everything went wrong. It was-" but she was interrupted by a pop, which signalled the arrival of Seamus.

"Run!" he shouted.

"But-" Cho stood up to protest, but was interrupted by Seamus again.

"We don't have time to argue, okay? Take Neville with you, and find some other place to hide! I'll hold them back, or whatever."

Cho, albeit reluctantly, nodded and cast a Levitating Charm on Neville. "Okay, I'm going to conceal ourselves. I'll bring you outside the Anti-Apparition wards, then we'll head somewhere else to hide, okay?"

"But what about Seamus? We can't just leave him alone!" Neville said, fear lacing his tone. He already knew the answer, but it was worth a try.

"He had already been spotted. If we can make our way out of here without being caught, it's mission accomplished," Cho said hurriedly as a spell hit and shook the walls of the cave. "I think he'd say something like this is him repaying the favours he owes you with. We're going now," she said as she cast a Disillusionment Charm on both of them.

And then, she ran.


	65. 65: Shattered Glass

**A/N: I curse myself for being too much of an emotional writer (read: I'm influenced by my own emotions). Ugh.**

 **Also, unbeta'd. Of course.**

 **Word count: 585**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : Divination Assignment #5 – Write about a character seeing in the Mirror of Erised (extra prompt used: (word) tears)

* * *

He was seeing her again. Her smile—her trademark, sweet smile that could ease Theo whenever he caught sight of it—and her melted grey orbs that had always told him that everything will be okay.

It was painful. Theo knew he would never see her—his grandma—again, because she dies of some stupid illness years ago. He knew there was no way he would see her again, alive—he was raised to approach all matters with cold rationale—but something prickled his heart upon staring into this mysterious mirror. The sensation was similar to a wasp's sting.

He was not quite sure what this mirror was, or what it showed—it wasn't ordinary, that is for sure, but… Did it show the past? Or did it show something in connection with grief and sorrow? Was it designed to push people into a downward spiral of depression, or was it supposed to serve as a reminder? Was it a dark artefact?

And if it was, how did his father get his hands on it, and why did he decide to store it in the cellar?

Theo wondered. In truth, though, he was only trying to mask the emotional pain that the image in the mirror—which was now burned into his memories for an eternity—caused. One of the upsides—or setbacks, Theo didn't know anymore—was that he never showed his true emotions to anyone. More often than not, not even to himself. Both a curse and a blessing, he'd say.

Yet, even as he stubbornly looked at the side, eyeing the windowsill with narrowed lashes, he felt tears prickling his eyes. He swiped his hand across his face in a rather wild manner. A Nott never cries. Not even when they see a picture of their deceased grandma, the only person to ever understand them.

Not even then. Not… even… then…

Oh, but the attempt was futile, and even Theo knew this much. Even if he did not cry out loud, he would still be shaken up on the inside.

Truth be told, after his grandma had died during his third year at Hogwarts, he worked hard to bury his grief. He had not wanted to acknowledge what had happened; he had wished to remain blissfully ignorant—well, as far as ignorance goes when a family member dies. It wasn't really unawareness, now that he thought of it; it was, more like, denial. A denial of his feelings, the feeling he would have kept at bay if it wasn't for this goddamn mirror.

Theo bowed his head, fixating his gaze on his shoes. Why did he have to be reminded of this now?

His grandma… She had always protected him. She wasn't one of those grannies Theo had always heard about; she wasn't an exceptional cook, and she didn't like knitting, but if there was anyone who had always stood by Theo's side, it was her.

Once, when he'd asked, she had told him she was that way because of her daughter—Theo's late mother. She had said she would protect her blood, no matter what. It would have sounded somewhat superficial and cold to anybody else, but Theo had understood.

But then, she dies. And now, there was this mirror, Merlin knows why.

Theo wanted to know what it was doing there, in the cellar. He wanted to know why had it been locked away, and what secrets it held.

But most of all, he wanted to see his grandma again.


	66. 66: Life With a Capital L

**A/N: Have I ever talked about the character team that's well within my comfort zone? Of course, it has Hermione and Draco in it, and it also includes Ron (surprisingly), Lavender, Parvati, and Padma, with Theo coming along nicely. I'm just Golden Trio trash.**

 **Word count: 515**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** DADA Assignment #5/Task #1 – Write about someone being freed from something or escaping from something (extra prompt: (colour) purple)

* * *

Finally, after eighteen years of being held back, Lavender was free. Not in the traditional sense of the world, since she'd always been free, but steeping into her brand new flat in London had its own sentimentality.

For her, it meant freedom from her parents' expectations, free from the burden of having to do something she was never supposed to do, and free from other people's needs.

Her obsession with Divination and all these 'far-fetched' and 'off-the-earth' subjects had always been frowned upon by her family—even her little brother. She had always been told that she was supposed to focus on 'useful' branches of magic, such as Charms, or Transfigurations, but truth be told, it was all too mundane, too raw for her.

Oh, and to make matters worse, her father had once stated that he would disown her if she didn't apply for a job at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Lavender wasn't quite sure what her family took her for. Sure, she wasn't the brightest, and she was painfully aware of that, but she wasn't some kind of coward.

 _After all, she_ had _been sorted into Gryffindor,_ she thought. It's not like she didn't have friends and acquaintances she could rely on if the situation called out for it. In fact, she felt proud. She was finally able to do something on her own, without asking for help from anybody.

The feeling was freeing, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Thinking of it, she came to the conclusion that it must have been the chains of expectations and her dependence on others. For her to be able to rent a flat and get a job on her own was something she would definitely remember as a milestone. Just thinking of it filled her with joy.

Looking at the light purple—or, rather, lavender—coloured walls, she nodded to herself. Everything would be okay.

There was a little voice in the back of her head that made her hesitate, however. She hadn't moved any of her boxes an inch since she had moved in, and she supposed it must have been her barely existent, albeit nagging inhibitions. Was she really ready to take a step towards independence?

After all, she was only eighteen years old. Even though she still had a whole life ahead of herself, she was still uncertain as to what she could do with that Divination and Potions NEWT of hers. Sure, she had a temporary job at the moment, but it wasn't something she wanted to do for the remainder of her uneventful life.

Was she independent enough? The purple walls, the green plants in the corner, the whole room said she was. But then, the boxes said she wasn't. It made her head hurt; she wasn't used to making such important decisions for herself. She needed a second voice, a voice she could trust not to screw her life up.

So, she did what she had always done when faced with a decision she was afraid to make. She called Parvati over.


	67. 67: Advice?

**A/N: How do you rapid write 500-word assignments? Part 1 of 3.**

 **Word count: 557**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** Care of Magical Creatures Assignment #6 – Write about a character who's utterly useless in a certain situation (extra prompt used: (character) Parvati Patil)

* * *

"And then I was told I'd never be able to pass my OWLs with my current grades, so I can say goodbye to a career as a professional fortune-teller!" Lavender cried, her fingers curling around Parvati's shoulders, shaking the Indian girl out of her momentary stupor. "How can they be so cruel, Parvati?"

"Uh," was all Parvati managed to choke out. The problem was not that she wasn't interested in Lavender's issue—although it had briefly flashed through her mind that maybe she should mind her own business just this once—but rather, her problem was the fact that she had been preoccupied with her own thoughts.

Having just finished her career consultation with Professor McGonagall, Parvati was disconcerted, and that is still an understatement. Not that being shaken up would be an excuse for not helping her best friend out, but Parvati herself had deemed it borderline impossible to concentrate in her current state of mind.

"Could you repeat what you just said once again, please?" she asked finally, after having her face scrutinised by her best friend for agonisingly long. "Sorry, I'm a bit… out of it."

Lavender sighed in a dramatic fashion, as if Parvati was just another nuisance for her. If she was being honest, the Indian girl could understand, since she would have done the same. Still, the look Lavender looked at her with was discouraging.

After another excruciatingly long bout of silence, which was filled with mixed looks of worry, weariness and annoyance, Lavender spoke again.

"As I was saying, I was told that with my current grades, it's unlikely I'll ever become a professional fortune teller. See?" Parvati nodded. "Which means, I gotta improve my grades in Charms and Transfiguration so I can pass my OWLs. How in Merlin's name am I supposed to do that?"

Parvati nodded again, her mind moving with the speed of a whirlpool. She was considering asking someone like Hermione, since she would surely be more than ready to teach Lavender a thing or two, but in an instant, her mind slipped onto a more pressing topic—more pressing on her part, that is. Her own grades. She had to do something about them.

For the last almost five years, it had been okay for her to be a low-average student, but for her to take the entrance exam into that academy, she'd have to make rapid improvement in a short period of time. How was that even possible?

"Hey, Parvati!" The girl was once again snapped out of her trance by a snap of Lavender's fingers right in front of her face. "Do you have any ideas?"

"I… I don't know," Parvati admitted. "I'd love to help you, but…" She bit her lip.

Lavender raised her eyebrows. "But? You're not being of help right now, either."

"I have the same problem, Lavender," Parvati said, plopping herself down on the nearest bunk bed. "Maybe we could find out something together?"

"Yeah, that's what I've been trying to get you to do," Lavender huffed.

Parvati shook her head, sinking even deeper into the mattress. "Sorry for being useless."

Lavender, relaxing her shoulders somewhat, took a seat next to her best friend, a bittersweet smile on her face. "Sorry for being so uptight. But hey, at least you're not alone in this."

Parvati let out a half-smile.


	68. 68: Another Direction

**A/N: How to write 500-word assignments in a rapid fashion? Part 2 of 3. This is lowkey femslash, if you squint. Don't ask how or why, because I got no idea. It came to me while writing it. I also got an amazing MC idea from this. Thanks, myself.**

 **Word count: 572**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:** Divination Assignment #6 - Write about a character searching for something important.

* * *

What was her goal? What were her wishes? What was it that she desired?

Most of all, what was her motive to live?

Daphne Greengrass often asked herself these questions.

She had been about fifteen years old when the thought first hit her. It wasn't that she didn't know where she was going—she did. She was to marry into another pureblood family, have an heir, and live happily ever after as a housewife. That was the direction she was supposed to take, and she knew that all too well. Problem was, it wasn't the direction she _wanted_ to take.

She wanted excitement, an adventurous life, which was unheard of in her family. She wanted to be different, but she didn't know how. It was one thing to say that she wanted to differ, but it was another the pinpoint exactly how she wanted this difference to be. But she didn't know.

It was like wandering aimlessly in an endless, dark forest. No matter where one turned, trees greeted them everywhere, blocking their view and dampening their sense of navigation more and more. Daphne's goal was to find a way out of this forest, but she was afraid she wouldn't be able to do it alone.

So, what was it that she was searching for?

A dream, she'd say. A hope, she'd correct herself right after. Something along those lines. She was searching for the meaning of life, but not in the sophisticated sense of the word—she was not searching for the ultimate truth, after all. She didn't want to change the world—she only wanted to change herself, and her family, possibly. And in the midst of that, she was searching for a way to do so.

Because for Daphne, it didn't matter what she did, as long as it was not the route assigned to her. Anything but the fate she was born with, if one was to be exact.

Alas, she needed somebody to lend her a hand in finding her path. This is how she came across Tracey Davis, a girl of ambition and preciseness. She was what—who, rather—Daphne had been searching for. Tracey wasn't the path, though; she was a certain kind of pointer for the path.

They had been classmates in Hogwarts, but only got to know each other after their graduation. Tracey was aiming to be the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement, even with the shady background of her family, and it fascinated Daphne to no end.

She knew she needed a person to guide her on a path that would excite her, that would be the route out of this dark forest maze she was wandering in, and Daphne decided that Tracey would be the perfect person to do just that. After all, even though she was uncertain of her future on multiple fronts, she was still of noble ancestry. For her that meant one thing and one thing only: She'd be the one to choose her guide and not the other way around.

That was the place Daphne was currently in. Searching for a path to take, searching for a goal, a dream, a future, with her former classmate on her side.

Although it wasn't precisely how she imagined it would be, for possibly the first time in her life, Daphne felt like she was moving forward, and the trees in her endless forest were finally starting to clear.


	69. 69: May My Memory

**A/N: I actually looked up the Wikipedia and the HP Wiki page of Anne Boleyn, as well as a WikiHow page on how to properly address British royalty. You learn new things every day.**

 **(This was written for a challenge, but I need not to spoil anything, so, yeah…)**

 **Also, virtual cookies to Pokeeeeeeee for essentially writing the gist of the first half of this and for the idea.**

 **Enjoy.**

 **Word count:** 648

* * *

 _"I'm not a bloody Squib!" Anne shouted over and over again, trying to convince her audience—and maybe herself, too, a little bit. "I can do magic! I can prove it!" she continued, desperation leaking into her voice._

The group of students gathered around her snickered in malice. They, of course, didn't believe her words. "Prove it, then," one of them said, scowling at her.

Anne waved her wand and cast a spell, pointing at the boy.

 _"Leviosa!" She said with as much force and determination as she could muster. The boy seemed to rise a millimetre in the air, but then settled back down onto the ground and burst out laughing. The other students did the same, clutching at their stomachs in laughter._

"You're just a pathetic Squib!" called out another one of them again. "If you can't even perform a simple levitation charm on Henry, you're absolutely worthless!" he shouted, which made his companions laugh even harder. Anne felt tears welling up in her eyes, even though she was repeatedly telling herself not to tear up.

The jeering continued on and on until Anne couldn't hold her tears back anymore, so she pushed past them and ran all the way to the Hufflepuff dormitories, silent tears streaming down her face all the way. She didn't stop running until she reached her bed, and then she remained curled up with her chin resting on her knees, sobbing for the rest of the evening.

~oOo~

Every time a flashback such as this would come to her, Anne would blink rapidly to shake the picture of her crying self out of her mind. It was just a memory. _Just a memory_ , the thought would ring through her head, calming her a little, even though her heart was still throbbing with a rapid velocity in her chest.

Throughout Anne's years at Hogwarts, the rumour that she was a Squib only grew and grew, despite her tries to refute everyone's claims. Sure, she wasn't a really good witch, but she was certainly not a Squib, either.

 _I wouldn't have been invited to Hogwarts if I was_ , she would tell them from time to time. Not that anyone listened, however. _It must have been a mistake_ , they would say, and then they would shove her out of the way, just in case.

Unfortunately, a couple of years after her graduation, her family forced her into a marriage with Henry Tudor, one of those annoying gits that always looked for trouble, and also one of her most inherent bullies. And all that, because her previous betrothal was broken, and because Henry wouldn't stop pursuing her, telling her that he only wished for her forgiveness. _If only_ , she would think.

That, essentially, is how she ended up with a plan to prevent the same sort of thing from happening again in Hogwarts, and that is also how she ended up in a rather uncomfortable and miniature chair in the studio of a well-known magical portrait artist.

"Your Majesty, may I ask what is it that you want this portrait for?" the artist asked somewhere halfway through the procedure.

"I have finally convinced Headmaster Undercliffe to join my efforts in stepping up against violence I the school. I do not trust any other acquaintance of mine to do a proper job, so I deemed it most appropriate if it was my portrait placed in the castle," Anne replied.

"Oh, Headmaster Undecliffe would be foolish to decline the wishes of the Queen, after all," came the reply.

Anne huffed, scrunching her nose in distaste. "I would rather it was not because of my title. Well, what matters is the outcome, isn't that right?"

"Absolutely, Your Majesty."

After that, they didn't speak until the portrait was finished, but Anne Boleyn went to rest on that day with the hope that maybe, someday, her portrait would end bullying.


	70. 70: Icy Coffee

**A/N: This is legit the first piece of fluff I've written, without any trace of angst. Wow.**

 **But like, I just watched Episode 7 of Yuri! On Ice and that's all I can think of right now (Like damn, anime ruined my life in one swift motion. Also, damn, there are so many things worth discussing about that episode. Somebody please help me).**

 **Conclusion: Fangirling is the only thing that can inspire me to write fluff. Huh.**

 **So, this is a bit of Scorily (which is still one of my fave next-gen pairings). Whoop whoop. Also, I haven't finished Cursed Child, so this is probably as AU as it gets.**

 **Enjoy.**

 **Word count:** 619

* * *

"What do you mean you don't know how to skate?" Lily turned to face her blond companion with a baffled look as the two of them stopped in front of the entrance of London's biggest ice skating rink. "Did your parents never take you to a rink in the winter?"

"Well," Scorpius pointedly steered his eyes away from Lily, "it's a Muggle thing to do, and my parents weren't exactly enthusiastic about Muggles in general."

"Hm," came Lily's vague response. "That blows my original plan, but instead, how about I teach you how to skate? It's going to be fun, I promise."

"Can't we just go to, I don't know, a café or something, like we usually do?" Scorpius' eyes met hers in a silent plea. "Besides, it's kinda cold out here. We're going to catch a cold if we stay for too long."

"That is precisely why I'd told you to dress up properly." Scorpius' expression was still one that of doubt. "You're not going to catch a cold from spending an hour out in the open, come on."

And thus ensued a battle of unsaid words as Lily and Scorpius continued staring at each other, willing the other to give in. It was only after minutes of intense eye-contact that Lily broke the silence.

"I'm going to invite you to a large cup of your favourite late afterwards," she said.

Scorpius' face, in a mere moment's time, turned from a rigid, determined expression to hesitation, and soon enough, he slumped his shoulders, sighed, and said, "Fine, geez. It's better be worth it."

And then, he muttered, inaudible to everyone but himself, "That's why you were sorted into Slytherin."

~oOo~

 _It wasn't worth it. Not at all_ , Scorpius decided.

The first time he fell, he shrugged it off. After all, even he couldn't have expected himself to find out he's actually an ice skating genius right off the bat. Even though the accident of him stepping onto the ice and then plopping down on his butt right after was worthy of a scowl and a twitch of an eye nerve on his part, he could live with it.

The fifth time, he started to get just a little bit frustrated. His legs weren't doing what he wanted them to do, and all he did was getting Lily gigglier with his constant battle against the rigid ice and gravity.

The tenth time, he let out a frustrated huff, letting Lily know that he was not enjoying the situation, and he would rather have promised to pay for the coffee that they were going to get instead of enduring whatever hell he has been thrown into.

It was around the twentieth time that he decided to do the noble thing and gave up.

"Lily, why can't we just give up on my ice skating skills and just visit that darn coffee shop?" he said after pushing himself up, his legs slightly shaking from the impact.

"You already did a whole lap around the rink once; if that's not progress, then I don't know what is," Lily replied.

"Please," Scorpius said as sincerely and exasperatedly as he could muster.

"You know I wouldn't force you," Lily said. "It's no fun if you're not enjoying it. But hey, I got to see a Malfoy plead, didn't I?"

The grin on Lily's face was making Scorpius consider his life choices. He debated whether or not to retort, but in the end, he made a shaky and very un-Malfoy-like turn and, grabbing the side of the rink, skated off towards the exit.

"Let's just go," he said while the two of them changed back into their shoes. "And you're definitely paying for that coffee."


	71. 71: Not Quite

**Written for Lin (MarvelGeek42) for the Advent Calendar event.**

 **Hope you enjoy it :)**

 **Word count: 527**

* * *

When did Petunia realise that her life was, had always been, and would always be unlike the one she had imagined, the one she had spent so much time planning during her childhood?

She herself couldn't quite pinpoint the exact moment of her realisation, but if she had to place it in an interval, she would have said it was somewhere between her deciding to decline that one invitation for that one date with that one guy named Vernon and her current situation. That is, alone in her miniature flat, regretting that one moment of weakness—or strength, she wasn't sure—when she wanted to be nothing more than an independent woman with dignity.

"See how well that turned out," she muttered to herself bitterly. Maybe, if she hadn't second guessed herself, if she had continued on a path to a completely normal life with a completely normal family with nothing out of the ordinary happening to her until she was six feet under, she wouldn't be feeling the tremendous amount of regret and desperation that she currently did.

Not that her life was _bad_ in the classical sense of the word. She had a job which didn't pay well at all, but was enough for her to make a living. She would sometimes go shopping or to a café. She had two cats, named Fluffy and Puffy. And yet, she was still very much alone. If she was going to be extremely honest, her only wish was to have someone that cares about her, that she can care about, because, much to her dismay, life didn't seem to work in her favour otherwise.

What made it worse was probably that she was pondering about all of these on an otherwise quiet Saturday night. She couldn't sleep, so she made herself a coffee, sat down on the couch that was in the corner of her living room, and just thought.

That is, until she heard the doorbell ring. Curious as to what could anyone be up to at her front porch at such an ungodly hour, she placed her coffee on the table nearest to her, yawned, and made her way to the entrance.

Outside, a sleeping baby with a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead and a letter placed on top of his little body. The first thing that came to Petunia's mind was that the scene must have looked positively hilarious to someone who wasn't herself, and that she would definitely find that someone to ask them a question or two. Then, she picked up and read the letter, with her facial expression becoming more and more contorted by the minute.

But then, she realised that she would have to raise the kid alone, if what was written in the letter was true. She briefly wondered whether it was Fate who was playing a not-so-humorous game with her. Then it came to her that maybe this was her payback for not choosing the easy way out of that other game called life when she had the chance.

Even then, she was sure of one thing only: This was not how she imagined this night would go.


	72. 72: Reminiscence

**I wrote this under an hour. Whew. I don't even know what this is supposed to be, but I like it. Enjoy.**

 **Speed Drabble:** (pairing) Blaise/Hermione, (dialogue) "What are you doing here?" / "...nothing.", (dialogue) "I'm glad you didn't die."

 **Word count: 960**

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Hermione Granger, who had just entered what remained of Hogwarts' Astronomy Tower asked. Her face was slightly pink from having to climb so many stairs, but it paled in comparison to the suspicion and confusion written over her face. She had come to this place to reminisce about her last few months, to symbolically start over again—or something of the kind—because what other place would be better than where everything started?

That is, until she came to realise that the place was already occupied.

"…Nothing," came the curt answer from Blaise Zabini, who, in quite a surprising position, was sitting cross-legged on the ledge of the marble tower. "At least not what you have to know about."

If it wasn't for the wariness that Hermione had for the boy—which, although she tried to convince herself otherwise, mostly came from the fact that he was a Slytherin who had been neutral in the war—she would have left him to be. In her current situation, however, she couldn't help the mixture of curiosity and increasing suspicion that was creeping up her spine.

"Mind if I join you?" she said. After all, being casual was the best way to find out more about one's intentions—which, if she thought about it, was a very Slytherin way of reasoning.

"Whatever you want," Blaise answered, not even sparing a glance at the brunette's direction. Biting her lip, Hermione decided that it was at least worth a try. Nevertheless, before she could decide otherwise, her legs automatically brought her closer to the boy, and she plopped down a bit of distance away from him—but still near the edge of the ruins—assuming a very similar, cross-legged position. It was times like these she was glad she had never preferred skirts.

And so, they sat in silence. For a while, Hermione tried to come up with something, anything she could talk about. Then she saw if she could read anything from Blaise's expression. Then, when both of these failed, she stopped caring and let her mind wander on its own. So what if there was another person next to her? She could defend herself if need be, and at least she had a little peace of mind.

It had been a few weeks since the war had ended, but she often came back to Hogwarts, and to this tower in particular. She would reminisce about the time when everything had been okay, but then a flock of traumatising memories would come back as well. She had been trying to find a way to cure herself of these nightmarish flashbacks, to no avail. She knew it took a great deal of time and effort to move on, but as usual, he wanted to speed up the process, and it bugged her to no end that she wasn't able to do just that.

It was probably her inner Hufflepuff that, when seeing the suffering of her friends and acquaintances, wanted to help them. To do that, however, she first had to help herself, she had realised.

 _If only there was a way_ , she thought. And then, before she could continue her usual line of thought, she heard a crack from under herself.

Even though her reaction time had fastened in the past few months, she didn't register the sickening crack in time, so the next thing she knew was that she was falling, and falling, and falling from the highest tower of Hogwarts. Her wand fell out of her pocket in the meantime, and the grassy field under was already nearing her.

She had heard of those times when during a near death experience, one's life would flash in front of one's eyes, but she had never experienced it herself. Ironically enough, she didn't have time to have a flashback of the kind, because at a few feet above the Hogwarts grounds, the falling suddenly stopped, and so did Hermione, staying mid-air, frozen.

Recovering from the shock that she didn't realise she had been in, Hermione glanced upwards to see a figure standing dangerously close to the ledge of the Astronomy Tower. She could only assume it was Blaise, but she couldn't confirm that until she landed on the tower again, after a painstakingly slow flight upwards.

The first logical thing to ask would have been a demand for a reason, but instead, Hermione just asked, "Did you just use a _Wingardium Leviosa_ on me? That's impressively simplistic."

She earned a nod and a sly half-smile. "You don't need to be flashy to get the job done."

"Why did you save me, though?" Hermione asked as though she suddenly remembered what had just transpired.

"Why wouldn't I?" Blaise retorted. Hermione had no response, so she kept on staring. "Either way, I'm glad you didn't die. I would hate to take the blame for your untimely demise."

"Thanks," Hermione nodded. Then, silence enveloped the two of them again, but this time, Hermione made sure to stay away from the ledge.

"Do you come here often?" the boy asked after quite some time had passed.

"I suppose," Hermione answered. "Do you?"

"I suppose." Blaise nodded. "About three times a week."

"Around when?" Hermione asked. She herself wasn't quite sure why she was making this conversation, but she decided that for once, she would not overthink it.

"Depends. On Thursdays, it's usually around 3 PM," the boy said. Hermione nodded.

It wasn't long after that she left the Tower. She couldn't quite concentrate on her usual reminiscence, so she deemed it better if she came back the next day.

Before she left the Hogwarts grounds, however, she inwardly made a note to definitely check the tower again on Thursday, at 3 PM.


	73. 73: Took You Long Enough

**Written for Liza (NeonDomino) for the Secret Santa event at the Hogwarts forum.**

 **Extra prompts:** (pairing) Sirius/Remus, (theme) Fluff, (theme) two characters meet for the first time, (AU) Soulmates (the idea is that people have the same soulmate mark on their wrists, which, if within close proximity to your soulmate, heats up, but cools down when you start talking to them)

 **Hope you enjoy :)**

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If there was anything exciting about the life Remus Lupin led, it was probably the little mark tattooed on his wrist in black ink. It was a star-shaped mark that, according to what his parents had told him when he was little, would lead him to his soulmate. He'd seen it on other people as well.

In the past few years, however, Remus had been wondering if he was ever going to find this supposed soulmate of his. After all, it had been over two decades, and the temperature of his mark had always stayed the same, not indicating just how close his soulmate was to him—if such a person even existed.

In the end, Remus would usually spend his days without worrying about the little, inked star on his wrist. He even made a promise to himself that if his soulmate didn't find him by the time he turned thirty, he would give up on this entire 'significant other' business and go after other people. He'd seen other people do that, and although it made little sense to him as a child, he understood why some gave up on soulmates now.

That was his plan. That is, until recently.

It had been a few days ago when Remus' wrist first heated up all of a sudden. Not unbearably so, but it was definitely noticeable. It didn't last long—barely over a minute, and yes, Remus did make a well-educated guess at the approximate length of it—but it left him staring at the star-shaped mark in awe for minutes. What a miracle that there weren't any customers to serve while it lasted.

From then on, these random heatwaves turned into a semi-recurring occurrence. From time to time, Remus would feel a little tinge at his wrist, but never for a lengthier time.

And today, Remus woke up with expectations for a similar turn of events, and his day started out in accordance. His alarm clock woke him up painfully early, his alarm clock ceaselessly buzzing until he silenced it with a groan and a well-timed punch in the direction of his bedside table. Then, he ate a bowl of the usual cereal, changed into his work outfit, shaved, and took the bus to his workplace.

Being a bookstore had its perks—such as the relatively flexible opening hours and being able to do something Remus actually enjoyed doing—but in the long run, it was also one of the dullest jobs he could imagine, and while Remus prided himself in being a laid-back person, from time to time, he would wonder if he'd made all the right choices.

Up until lunchtime, nothing worthy of note happened, except for maybe the few overly festive customers, who were already looking for Christmas presents despite it being mid-November. When Remus decided to leave the shop to his assistant around midday, however, his mark heated up again, but this time, more intensively than ever.

It was also then that a thought struck Remus. Since it was his lunch break, he could search or his soulmate—who, despite his doubts over the years, definitely existed. And, nutrition be damned, he decided to follow on this idea without giving much thought to it.

He quickly calculated which places to search for, and then decided to hit up the nearest café first. Based on the temperature of his tattoo, the person he was looking for must have been at most a few blocks away, and the café was the only public place Remus could think of for somebody who was new in his town—which he assumed his soulmate was, since the heatwaves only started appearing a few days ago.

Entering the café, his eyes scanned the place, trying to find someone who didn't quite fit the picture. His mark had actually gotten hotter since he'd left the bookstore, but none of the customers already sitting in the café had any further telltale effects on it. Remus bit his lip, trying to decide whether he should wait or move on to the next possible location.

When he decided not to waste any more time and spun around to leave that he came face-to-face with another man, who'd just entered the café. Remus felt another tinge on his wrist, the heat becoming borderline unbearable.

"Oh, hello," the other man greeted him. He had black hair that fell on his shoulders, a fake leather jacket, and a biker's helmet in his hands. Not exactly how Remus had imagined his soulmate, but his heart skipped a beat despite all that. In his state of shock, he didn't even notice that his mark cooled down significantly with the words of the other man.

"H-Hi," Remus replied, not quite over his shock yet. "So…"

"Want a drink?" the other motioned towards the counter at the other end of the café. Remus nodded, not trusting his throat enough to reply verbally.

"Do you come here often?" the other man continued, seemingly unfazed by just how completely useless Remus felt at the moment. "My mark would always heat up when I came by this place, so I thought you'd turn up sooner or later."

"Not really." Remus shrugged, finally finding his voice to reply. "I work around here, so it must have been that."

"Same thing." The other man nodded. "Oh, by the way, I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm Sirius Black, and you can call me Sirius, but my friends just call me Padfoot."

"Remus Lupin," the brunette introduced himself. "Actually, are you new around here?"

"Yeah." The other—Sirius—scratched the back of his head. "My best friend has just gotten married, and I've been crashing at his until now, so he kind of kicked me out, and so, I'm looking for a new place now. Do you know a place, by any chance?"

Remus shook his head. "Not that I know of, no."

"Ah, that's a bummer," Sirius said. "Hey, actually," he continued as if he'd just remember something important, "do you want to go and eat something instead of coffee? My stomach is empty."

"It's my lunch break as well, so sure." Remus nodded.

"Then, shall we go?" Sirius motioned towards the exit. Remus nodded as a small smile played on his lips. Maybe this soulmates thing was actually worth a try.


	74. 74: Wishful Thinking

**Written for The OTP Challenge Round 1** (my pairing is Lily Luna/Scorpius) – Tropes – Soulmates

 **A/N: Note that, first of all, I still haven't finished Cursed Child, so the characters are entirely up to my own interpretation (and chances are, they still will be, even after I do finish it). Second of all, I haven't published anything in roughly two months (nor have I written much—fiction, that is). Excuse me if my writing is not up to the usual standards. Third of all, this is an AU. Surprise, surprise.**

 **Oh, and I'm having the Speaking part of my English language exam tomorrow, so this was written partially thanks to my stress.**

 **Enjoy.**

 **Word count:** 1,128

* * *

For what felt like an eternity, Lily Luna had been struggling. From an early age on, she had been told to sit tight, to wait for her knight in their shining armour to arrive, because it was how things were meant to be. Because, as it was written, she would eventually come across her soulmate if she remained patient.

Lily, however, stopped believing in these tales after some time had passed. Who was to ensure that this soulmate of hers would ever make an effort to find her? What if they also lived as static of a life as she did, never seeking, only waiting? Would they ever find each other? Yeah, likely not.

What did they know about those soulmate marks anyway? She'd been told it would change colour when her soulmate entered her near vicinity, but only at the right time. Right time… How could she know when that was supposed to happen?

After a scarring internal debate with herself, Lily had decided to forego time and hit the roads, travelling across the world until she found her soulmate. As soon as she had graduated from Hogwarts, she rounded up the money she had lying around, and set off.

Financing the journey had been one problem that presented itself over time, since all her income came from writing articles to some lesser known British wizarding magazines as a freelance journalist, and even then, she was sure they didn't pay her for the quality of her writing, more so because of her destinations.

And for years, it went on. She would depart for weeks, months, to wherever her intuition steered her, gazing intently at the little, crimson-coloured lightning bolt on the top of her hand all the while, see if it ever changed its colour. Alas, nothing. She'd seen slight shifts in hue once or twice, all of them places which she reminded herself to return to one day, but nothing worthy of note.

Eventually, she grew fatigued. Enjoying the vibrant colours and cultures that she was pleased to discover was one thing—along with the various Muggle and wizarding artefacts she researched, much to the delightment of her aunt Hermione—but making progress towards her original goal was another.

She just wanted to meet her soulmate; was it too much to ask for?

Oddly enough, it was during one of her short visits home, while sitting in a Muggle café, that a stinging sensation ran through her right hand, jolting her out of the melancholic mood she had been in. In an instant, her eyes flicked to where she'd felt the pain, only to notice her lightning bolt-shaped mark transform from crimson to a bright, sunshine yellow. She whipped her head around, looking for someone who might have entered the café just then, and furrowed her eyebrows in confusion when she saw the door shut, just like it had been a few moments prior.

Her mind started racing, fully intent on finding a solution, now that finally, after years of restless adventuring, her time had come.

What did they say about the marks again? It would change colour if the person was in her near vicinity, but only at the right time…

Right time… Change colour… Near vicinity? What does that mean?

Then, as soon as her next thought presented itself, she hopped onto her feet, dashing out of the building like a madman. Looking frantically left and right, Lily decided to continue her chase in the former direction, hoping that her mark would give her, if nothing else, at least pointers.

"So close, yet so far," she mumbled as she rounded the next corner, glancing at her hand continuously. It was the same, vibrant yellow as before, though the shine had somewhat faded since she'd had the stinging sensation. Lily interpreted that as a sign to turn back, to go and try searching the other side of the block.

It was after the third time she'd passed in front of the café—where the bartenders must have thought her nuts, she concluded—that she rammed straight into a body while fixing her eyes on her hand.

Looking up, her gaze met an oddly familiar, grey pair of eyes, coupled with a hint of a grin—she couldn't decide whether it was genuine or coy.

"Scorpius… Malfoy?" she asked her rather rhetorical question, the reality of her current state of being only just entering the realms of her mind. "How come?"

"I was going to get a coffee," he replied, scratching the back of his head, "but then this happened." Here, he opened his palm to reveal a bright, cloud-shaped mark of the very same hue as Lily's lightning bolt.

"How, though?" the girl wondered, trying to register that, yes, _it was happening_ , and it was nowhere near how she'd imagined it going. "I mean, we've met before and all. Albus introduced us ages ago, right? It's a memory I'll hardly forget, to be honest," she continued, wincing slightly at the memory.

"Yeah, I remember that," Scorpius said, looking anywhere but at her, but with a small smile playing on his lips, to which Lily narrowed her eyes. "Either way, I guess it must not have been the right time, or something? I couldn't find out much about the soulmate mark system, even after going through all these old texts about bond magic in our library at home."

That was when, for the second time that day, a realisation hit Lily.

"That would make an awful lot of sense," she mumbled to no one in particular, deciding to keep the matter tucked away for later. "You know," she said, tapping the blond's shoulder lightly, "I've been looking for you for years. I went to Thailand, for Merlin's sake, just to make sure you weren't there!"

"Thailand?" Scorpius inquired. "Not bad. I'll bet you fifty galleons that you haven't been to Bangladesh, though," he added, sporting a knowing smile that made Lily furrow her eyebrows.

"Any particular reasons why _you_ have been there, then?" Lily retorted. It was odd; she'd never taken Scorpius Malfoy for a traveller.

"Looking for my soulmate, probably," came the nonchalant answer. "Guess we both thought the same thing."

If it was possible, Lily furrowed her eyebrows even further.

"Wouldn't have bet on that," she said, her gaze falling to the side.

"There's a lot we don't know about each other," the blond nodded. "Say, how about a coffee?" he motioned at the café Lily had left some half an hour back.

The girl nodded, taking hold of Scorpius' wrist and leading the way to the entrance. She had to admit: her years-long journey didn't exactly go according to plan, but if anything, she knew she would try and make the most of it anyway.


End file.
